


Haunted

by AmberBrown



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Assault, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:19:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29002104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberBrown/pseuds/AmberBrown
Summary: A mystery being is attacking the poor people of Paris. The King wants something done about it. Treville sends his best men to investigate. But the attacks bring back horrible memories for one of them.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will post a chapter a day, real life permitting.

Prologue

A freezing breeze swirled the piece of paper around and around in the corner opposite. The little boy watched it, wide-eyed. The paper danced and jumped about for a few seconds before it floated down to the dirty ground as the breeze faded away. 

The boy turned back to look at the doorway, he wished he could find somewhere better to sit for the night time. But all the other nooks and crannies were already occupied. No one would share with him. The doorway was the next best place he had found. He returned to the doorway each night, sitting on the top step, pushed as far out of the wind as he could get. 

He knew it was not wise to settle on the ground. If it rained the water would find him, even if he was undercover. It would seep into his clothes leaving him shivering even more than he knew he would be anyway. 

The boy unfolded his tatty blanket. His one possession. He knew to never leave his blanket. It would be stolen. He carefully lay the blanket on the step so that he could curl up on top of it with enough spare to pull over him. He shifted about a little, tucking his feet in as far as he could, wrapping his arms around his knees. 

The breeze picked up again, but he did not feel it as harshly this time. Not now he was tucked into his doorway, his protective blanket covering him. The piece of paper began its dance a second time. The little boy watched it for a few seconds before something else drew his attention. 

Something was moving at the end of the street. He could not make it out properly. But he saw that it was coming closer. Its movements were smooth as though it was floating. 

The little boy wanted to look away if he looked away perhaps the thing would not be there when he looked back. But he could not look away, his eyes were fixed on the thing. 

The thing was looking back at him. But not with two eyes. The thing had lots of eyes that blinked and shone. 

The little boy knew the thing had seen him. 

It was heading straight for him.

MMMM

Chapter One 

A spring shower sent the courtiers back into the Palace in the wake of the King. The noblemen and women waited politely for the monarch to turn towards the steps leading into the large stateroom. Treville and the Musketeer guards had exchanged glances of bemusement as the courtiers jostled for position behind the King. Treville was sure they were not only trying to be near their King but also be the first to get out of the chilly rain. 

As they entered the stateroom a couple of footmen moved to the hearth. They began to build up the flames to ensure the room was warm. The Musketeers positioned themselves at strategic points about the room. They watched the rich men and women who were milling around, brushing themselves down sending rain droplets across the polished floor. Treville moved to be near the King who was standing with his back to the fire continuing his discussion with a couple of the more flamboyant talkative courtiers. 

Baron Cote, who wore far too many frills for Treville’s liking, was regaling the monarch with a tall story he had heard. The King was listening with interest. 

‘... and the body was covered in claw marks, sire,’ Cote said, his voice a stage whisper to add drama to his tale. ‘The poor creature must have bled to death right there on the street.’

‘And the killer - this mystery hooded figure - he’s not been caught?’ asked the King who was hanging on the Baron’s every word. 

‘No, sire. They say he - or it - is not of this world. It shimmers with an ethereal light as it moves through the streets. Women and children flee before it.’

The King leaned closer to Cote, causing the others in the group to copy. Treville shook his head and rolled his eyes. The two closest Musketeers could also hear the outrageous story. Barbotin hid a smile, and Marc looked away, trying not to laugh.

‘Where was the last attack?’ asked one of the ladies, her face pale, her eyes wide.

She was clutching the arm of one of the young men who seemed to be enjoying the closeness of the enraptured women. Although the man had rearranged the woman’s hand a little to stop her creasing the sleeve of his doublet.

‘It happened in a dark corner off the Rue du Claire-’

‘The slums,’ remarked the man who was comforting the lady. ‘The place is full of villains… I don’t think we will miss a few of them.’

The young noble and the other men in the privileged huddle laughed. The King did not. The men sobered, realising they should not react in a manner different to the King.

‘How many people have this… this being killed?’ asked the King.

Baron Cote, had looked annoyed at the jibes from the other men, refocused on the King, ‘nobody knows, majesty,’ he said. ‘But I have heard it could be more than twenty.’

The King straightened up, his face almost as pale as the worried lady. He looked across to Treville who sighed inwardly. The Musketeer Captain stepped forward when the King gestured to him.

‘What is being done, Treville?’ asked the King with a slight inquiring tilt of his head. 

Treville noticed that the group were all looking at him, waiting for his response. The woman had moved closer to the man who had put his arm around her protectively. 

‘I have heard these rumours,’ said Treville with a glance towards the Baron who momentarily glared at the Captain. ‘And have monitored them. As far as I can tell there are no more attacks in that area than normal. This story of a hooded figure has probably been created by people who do not want to admit to being robbed when they let their guard down.’

Baron Cote huffed with annoyance at the barely veiled insinuation that he was adding fuel to an imaginary fire. The King, however, was not appeased by Treville’s words. 

‘And what if this creature of the night decides to move its attacks to other areas of Paris? Is the Royal household safe? Will we be safe to walk around our grounds?’

‘Majesty,’ said Treville with a respectful nod of his head, ‘I can assure you that you are safe within the grounds of the Palace.’

Baron Cote was about to say something but Treville continued.

‘But as you have generously commissioned more men into your Musketeers, I believe the Royal guard can be reinforced.’

The King nodded his approval, ‘and what of the people of Paris?’ he asked. 

‘I do not have enough men to protect all the citizens.’

Treville knew he was pushing his luck with the comment, but the King did not react as he expected. 

‘You have just told me you have more men than you need, therefore, you will spare some of these men to find this… this nighttime creature that is terrorising my people and deal with it.’

The other courtiers who were listening to the conversation looked impressed with the King’s words. The monarch was doing all he could to protect his people.

‘Bravo, majesty,’ said the man who was supporting the lady. ‘You will show this being that France will not be cowed by anyone… or anything.’

The lady wilted a little. Treville knew that was what the man wanted as he whispered something soothing in her ear.

Baron Cote looked smug. Treville had challenged his elaborate story and been put in his place by the King. 

The Musketeer Captain bowed low to his King, ‘it will be done, majesty,’ he said.

The King nodded, ‘yes, Treville, it shall. You are dismissed.’

After a second respectful bow, Treville walked from the room, knowing several of the courtiers were watching him go and whispering about the exchange to each other. He hoped his men could apprehend the robber without delay and that Baron Cote could be proved wrong regarding his suggestion it was a supernatural being.

MMMM

The Musketeer garrison was busy. A couple of the newly commissioned men were starting the next stage of their career by inducting cadets. The older men were supervising but on the whole standing back. The young cadets looked around nervously, watching as some of the Musketeers sparred with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Treville noted a couple of the men getting a bit too aggressive and having to be separated. He made a mental note to talk to the men later in the day and find out what the spat was about. They knew he had seen them and looked suitably contrite. 

D’Artagnan and Athos were leaning against the wall, their doublets hanging on hooks nearby. Both men were flushed from exercise as they watched Porthos help Aramis up. The pair had been scuffling trying to trip each other up. Treville always wondered why any of them bothered to try to get Porthos on the ground, none of them ever managed it. The only Musketeer that had ever landed a punch hard enough to floor Porthos, was Luc, who at the time looked mortified at his achievement. 

Porthos slapped Aramis on the shoulder as the pair laughed. Treville wandered towards them shaking his head.

‘If you’ve quite finished showing off I need to talk to the four of you. I have been instructed by the King to have an issue dealt with.’

Porthos smiled, ‘and you’re passing that issue onto us?’

Treville held Porthos’ gaze for a few seconds causing the smile to falter on Porthos’ face.

‘Actually,’ said Treville, ‘I’ve picked the four of you because you, Porthos, are going to have the most knowledge about the subject.’

Treville could see his Musketeer trying to work out what he would know that the others would not. 

Aramis slung his arm around his friend’s shoulder, ‘all Porthos is good for is bruising my pride and charming more food from Serge. What could he possibly have to offer?’

Porthos gave Aramis a friendly shove causing Aramis to push him back. Treville looked at them both causing them to stop and stand at attention. Athos shook his head and stepped into line along with d’Artagnan. 

As his men realised the task was a serious one they all gave him their full attention. 

‘There have been several attacks in the poorer areas of Paris, concentrated around the Court of Miracles.’

All four Musketeers reacted differently. Porthos’ expression hardened, whilst Aramis looked angry. Athos glanced at Porthos with concern, and d’Artagnan took on the look of concentration he adopted whenever he was being given a mission. 

‘There are frequent attacks in those areas,’ remarked Athos.

Porthos nodded his agreement, ‘what’s special about these attacks? For the King to be interested there must be something different about them. He don’t usually care about the slums and my Court.’

Treville could see the distrust in Porthos. The Musketeer was generally able to rise above any snide remarks about his background or the people he grew up with. It was not often the King even acknowledged the desperately poor of the city.

‘One of the other courtiers has heard about it, he’s embellished the story and now the King thinks he will be attacked next. I am sure it is an embellishment but he has instructed me to deal with it.’

Treville outlined all he had overheard from the Baron about the mystery figure.

‘Claws?’ said d’Artagnan. ‘Are they saying they’ve been robbed by an animal?’

Treville raised an eyebrow, ‘exactly. This is the kind of embellishment I am having to deal with. The Baron also said this… creature,’ he shook his head at the description. ‘This creature did not walk in a normal manner and there was something about it shining.’

Athos was looking at Porthos who had gone quiet and looked away.

‘What is it?’ asked Athos. 

Porthos looked back at Athos and shook his head.

‘Nothing, I was only thinking that it's annoying and disrespectful of the nobles to make this kind of story up. They're implying that the people who are poor and have no choices are somehow acceptable victims of their rumoured beasts.’

Porthos sighed and shook his head.

‘Perhaps,’ he continued, ‘there is someone committing robberies in the area… More robberies than usual, but they can’t be some freakish creature. It’s a man and they’ve invented something around it to make it more entertaining when they talk about it.’

Treville knew the ‘they’ Porthos meant were the nobles. But there was something else, something that Porthos was not saying. Treville guessed Porthos was struggling not to say something out of place regarding the nobles and the King. 

Athos said, ‘it is too late now, we can ask some of the locals tomorrow and get a better description of this man.’

Porthos nodded, ‘I’ll go to the court in the morning and ask. We can work out what to do next once we have a bit more real information.’

‘I hoped you would be willing to sort this out,’ said Treville. ‘I’ll relieve the four of you of your other duties. Keep me informed so that I can update the King.’

Assured that his men would carry out the work without further direction the Captain turned towards the men that had been taking their sparring session too far. He had been watching them out of the corner of his eye as he briefed the Musketeers. The pair had wisely remained where they were waiting for the inevitable dressing down.

Treville could hear Porthos making suggestions of where they would find people who would talk to them. The Captain was confident the rumours would be dealt with in no time at all.

MMMM

_The Next Morning... ___

__The Court of Miracles was, perhaps, the only place in Paris that intimidated Athos. He was not a man who was easily intimidated but there was something about the place. It was true the vast majority of people who lived within its invisible boundaries were more fearful of him than he could ever be of them. But there were also several people who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. Some people were so desperate that they would risk everything for a scrap of food. And desperate people were the most dangerous kind. Athos could never understand the people that existed within the court. He had never experienced their level of poverty. He may have given up his noble life but he had never been poor, never needed to ask for charity to survive. He decided it was that difference that caused his wariness of the place._ _

__Porthos, on the other hand, knew what it was to have nothing. He did not talk often about his life in the court. They knew enough and knew that he was lucky to have escaped it. Athos glanced at his friend as they approached the small unofficial kingdom within the city. Porthos looked tired and concern was etched across his face. The Musketeer disliked any kind of injustice, as they all did, but when it was directed at the people he had grown up with, it took on a personal nature._ _

__‘Let me do the talking,’ said Porthos, without looking at him. ‘At least to start with.’_ _

__Athos nodded, ‘I only hope you can find some that are willing to talk. Even you have been away for long enough that they will be wary of you.’_ _

__Porthos glanced across, ‘I know. It’s odd. I knew the place once. Knew every inch of it, but now. Now it’s a different world.’_ _

__‘But not so different that you cannot be of use to us on this mission,’ mused Athos with a smirk._ _

__Porthos chuckled, ‘glad to be of service.’_ _

__Athos watched Porthos’ smile fade and his pensive expression return._ _

__There was no definable border between the city of Paris and the court of miracles, and yet, Athos knew when they had crossed it. A heaviness filled the atmosphere, the people appeared furtive or fearful. The two Musketeers were greeted with suspicion._ _

__Athos was also aware of a change in Porthos' demeanour. His friend pulled himself up to his full height and walked with a firm step. He did not look around. Athos realised Porthos was trying to give off the impression he was in no way intimidated. Athos knew that Porthos was not as welcome in the area as he had been a few years ago, but he still held some respect._ _

__Two men in their twenties moved to block the Musketeers' way. The men wore leather and were armed with guns and daggers, a contrast to the majority of the locals. The court had its own militia. And that militia was on constant alert._ _

__'Why are you here?' asked one of the men who sported a scar across the left side of his neck._ _

__'We're investigating some robberies,' said Porthos._ _

__'There's a lot of crime here,' said the other man, whose accent and skin tone marked him out as an immigrant. 'No one cares. We deal with it.'_ _

__'And most of the time that's fine,' said Porthos. 'But when it comes to our attention we've got to do something about it.'_ _

__The scarred man laughed, 'and which of the hundreds of crimes are you going to do something about?'_ _

__Porthos took half a step towards the man, he was close enough to grab him if necessary. Athos knew which of the two men was at a disadvantage._ _

__'Why don't you let us do what we need to and then we'll be on our way.'_ _

__The foreign man stepped closer and pushed his friend back a step._ _

__'You won't be safe in here,' he said. 'We'll leave you alone... but I can't speak for everyone else. You'd be wise to be quick about your business.'_ _

__The two men backed off a few paces._ _

__As they turned to go Athos saw them signalling to someone in a window of the nearest house. He could make out a figure stepping back, away from the light. The news that two Musketeers had entered the court would spread quickly. Athos doubted they would have to do much to find the victims of the mystery man._ _

__Porthos was looking at the same window, he waited a few seconds before walking forward. They had only taken a few steps when a quiet, but insistent, voice broke through the sounds of everyday life in the court._ _

__'I was robbed, messieurs.'_ _

__Athos turned towards the middle-aged man that had spoken. He was sitting on the bottom step of what would have been a grand entrance to a large house. He was not dressed in rags. His clothes were mud streaked and ripped in places. Further evidence of the robbery could be seen in his bruised face and the way he was holding his arm protectively._ _

__'Was this recent?' asked Athos as he took a step closer to the man. 'What did they look like?'_ _

__MMMM_ _


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

A picture was beginning to form in Athos’ head of the mystery being. The being that was preying on the poor. They worked out that whoever was attacking the people was clever to include those that had nothing. They were the ones that were spreading the rumours and making the people that did have something to lose, scared. 

They had spoken to a few of the victims. Once word got out that the Musketeers were asking about the mystery being a few people found them. Athos knew he would not get the image of the woman with two children that had spoken to them out of his mind. The small boy that was clutching on to his mother's skirts had seen the mystery being. He had only spoken a few words since and appeared to have not slept at all. 

The same descriptions were given over and over again. Athos became convinced something was going on, but he could not believe it was something supernatural.

‘Monsieur Porthos,’ said a man as he stepped from the shadows underneath a rickety set of stairs. 

Both Musketeers stopped and looked at the man expectantly. The man was grubby, as most of the inhabitants were. Smudges of dirt covered his face. A tatty bandage was wrapped around his hand and wrist and his shoes were tied together with rags.

‘I remember you,’ said the man as he took a step closer to them. 

Athos guessed the man was a few years older than Porthos, although judging ages in the court was not easy. The hard life meant its inhabitants aged more quickly than elsewhere. The man had bruising around his neck which he had tried to cover with another rag. Athos wondered why he would try to hide the bruising. If he had been attacked he was not alone. Some of the other victims had spoken of being choked or strangled by the mystery figure. 

‘You remember me?’ asked Porthos. ‘From when?’

‘When you lived here before you went off and joined the army. Before you abandoned us.’

The man shook his head.

‘You were lucky,’ he continued. ‘Most of us aren’t.’

Porthos and the man regarded each other for a few seconds before the man spoke again.

‘I don’t begrudge you. None of us owes anyone else anything. Perhaps I’m jealous.’

Athos glanced at Porthos who was still looking at the man, perhaps he was trying to work out if he remembered the man. 

‘Were you attacked?’ asked Porthos after a few moments. 

The man nodded, ‘a couple of days ago now,’ he said. ‘I was taken by surprise. It’s not easy to take people by surprise in here.’

Porthos nodded, ‘it doesn’t pay to let your guard down. Can you describe this figure that attacked you?’

The man continued, ‘It appeared as if out of nowhere. I swear it didn’t walk… more floated. I know it can’t be real. But it was. And other people have said it had a million eyes…’

The man paused and stared into the distance for a few seconds.

‘But they weren’t eyes… They were lights that seemed to blink on and off… like the stars.’

The man pointed upwards, towards the cloudy sky. The man looked at Porthos who did not say anything for a couple of seconds. Athos stole a glance at his friend and was surprised to see a spark of recognition in his face. The man they were talking to had seen it as well.

‘You know what I’m talking about. You’ve seen it. It’s not just in the Court anymore. It’s got out… hasn’t it?’

Porthos was quick to respond, although Athos detected lies behind his words. 

‘I ain’t seen it. Your description matches others we’ve had though. People remember things differently. But, overall, they all match.’

Porthos nodded and reached out to rest his hand on the man’s arm. 

‘You’ve been helpful, monsieur.’

The man looked at Porthos and smiled.

‘I’m glad I could help,’ he said. ‘It scared me, but somehow it seemed unreal. I thought I was imagining it.’

‘Did this… being,’ said Athos. ‘Try to strangle you?’

He indicated the rag around the man’s throat. Self consciously the man adjusted the cloth to cover the bruises. The man’s answer was almost hesitant for a second. Something about the way the man responded caused Athos to doubt him. 

‘Yes. I think it’s tried to strangle a few people… those of us with nothing are the ones it scares.’

Athos flicked his gaze towards Porthos again, noting his friend’s minute reaction. He knew it was not the time or place to question him. But the man had again noticed Porthos’ reaction.

‘If you haven’t seen it,’ said the man to Porthos. ‘You’ve known about it. He’s not scared,’ the man gestured towards Athos, ‘but you. You’re scared. You, a Musketeer, a grown man. You are scared.’

‘I’m concerned,’ said Porthos with a scowl. ‘I am doing my job. I want this being dealt with.’

The man tilted his head, ‘you lie,’ he said. 

Athos stepped forward, ‘do you have anything else you can tell us?’

The man looked at him, ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘The being tripped me to the ground and pulled what few coins I had from my pockets. I tried to shout and it strangled me until I passed out.’

‘You have been most helpful, monsieur,’ said Athos. 

The man nodded to Athos before looking at Porthos sceptically for a few seconds and turning away from them. Athos watched the man go only looking away when Porthos turned and walked in the opposite direction. Athos followed him, knowing there was more to the stilted conversation than Porthos had been prepared to say when the man had been there. 

Porthos was walking with determination, away from the Court. Athos caught him up and fell into step. He glanced at his friend who was staring ahead, his expression unreadable. Athos decided he would wait to ask the inevitable questions. Porthos was not in the mood to discuss what had happened. Athos wondered if his friends rattled behaviour was due to returning to the place he had grown up in. Porthos had moved on from that life, he was a different person now. 

They made their way towards the nearest tavern that served good food and wine. They expected to meet Aramis and d’Artagnan who had been questioning the locals in the surrounding area. Athos expected them to have heard similar stories.

MMMM

They were only a few hundred yards from the tavern when they saw both d’Artagnan and Aramis rush out and towards them. They were following a young man who had turned off along a side street. D’Artagnan paused and beckoned them on with a hurried gesture before charging after Aramis. Athos and Porthos broke into a run and followed their brothers. Whatever had happened required their attention urgently. 

Ahead of them, they could see a couple of people huddled around a man who was sitting on the ground. As they got closer Athos could see a trickle of blood on the man’s face. The man wore the tough apron of a blacksmith. His shirt sleeves were rolled up revealing an assortment of burns, typical for a man of his profession. The man looked capable, whoever had attacked him must have taken him by surprise. 

‘It went that way,’ said one of the men who were with the victim, ‘I saw it disappear down the alley.’

‘Show me,’ said d’Artagnan.

As D’Artagnan rushed after the man, Aramis skidded to a halt by the injured blacksmith. Athos glanced at Porthos who was stopping to help Aramis. Deciding the victim was in good hands Athos followed where d’Artagnan had been led. He reached the turning for the narrow alleyway but could not make out his friend or the man that had shown him the way. For several seconds he waited before seeing the two men silhouetted in the dim light as they walked back towards him. 

D’Artagnan shrugged his shoulders as they got closer. 

‘They must be long gone,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ said the man, who Athos guessed was of a similar age to d’Artagnan. ‘I should have followed it… but I was… afraid to go on my own.’

D’Artagnan squeezed the man’s shoulder, ‘you’re unarmed. It would have been foolhardy.’

The man nodded, ‘I think we stopped it from hurting Monsieur Baudin. It moved quickly… we saw the claw.’

The man glanced back towards the alleyway and shuddered, before falling into step with them as they returned to Monsieur Baudin. The blacksmith had managed to get to his feet but looked as though he would not be returning to his forge for the rest of the day. 

An older woman was standing close by, a worried look on her face, she had a shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. 

‘I saw it,’ she was saying to Porthos. ‘I saw it with my own eyes. I never thought I’d see it again.’

‘Again?’ said Aramis who was still keeping a steadying hand on the blacksmith's elbow.

‘This ain’t the first time it’s stalked these streets,’ said the old woman. ‘Years ago… about thirty years ago I’d say, give or take. I think most folks have moved on that were here then. Or they’re choosing to forget it.’

Athos glanced at Porthos who had taken a small step back and schooled his expression to show no emotion. His friend was being careful not to look at any of them. 

‘What happened, monsieur?’ asked Aramis, who was still looking at Monsieur Baudin with a critical eye. 

‘I’d stepped out of the shop for a few minutes,’ said the blacksmith with a glance back a few yards at the dark doorway of his workplace. ‘I was looking up at the sky, deciding if it would rain or not. Nothing I don’t do every day.’

The blacksmith paused and shook his head. He looked at his hands. Athos noticed they were shaking. 

‘It grabbed me and tripped me to the ground. I must have hit my head. Then I heard Madam Favre scream. It was leaning over me… its claws were out… I thought it was going to kill me.’

Madam Favre stepped forward, ‘I saw it. I screamed. I thought my heart would stop there and then,’ she said, slightly over dramatically. ‘It looked up. Its eyes all focused on me. Then it swooped off. I saw it disappear along there.’

She pointed towards an alleyway on the opposite side of the road to the one the young man had taken d’Artagnan. Athos looked at the man who was standing nearby.

‘We saw it reappear on the other side of the road,’ said the young man.

Athos looked at Madam Favre who was nodding, her eyes wide with shock.

‘Horrible Devil creature,’ she said. 'In two places at once. Evil.'

D’Artagnan looked at the young man, ‘why don’t you see that Madam Favre gets home?’

The young man nodded and stepped forward taking the old woman’s arm. They watched the pair walk back along the road a little before turning off. At the same time, Aramis was walking with the blacksmith towards his shop. 

‘I’ll catch you up in the tavern,’ he said over his shoulder as he walked. 

Athos looked around for a few seconds, noting that Porthos was still not reacting to what had happened. D’Artagnan was scanning the area. 

‘I don’t think we’re going to learn anything new,’ he said. ‘The man was attacked from behind. The witnesses saw the same thing that everyone else did.’

Athos agreed with d’Artagnan’s assessment, ‘how did you hear about the attack?’

D’Artagnan gestured for the other young man to come forward. The man was still panting from the run from the tavern. He wore reasonable clothes. A thin ragged scarf around his neck his only apparent indulgence. 

‘I heard the screaming,’ said the man. ‘I’d seen you and the other soldier go into the tavern. I thought you’d be able to help. Did I do the right thing?’

‘Yes,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘you did. And if you see or hear anything else about this… Devil Man, you should come and find us at the garrison.’

‘I will. Are you going to catch it?’ asked the man.

‘We’re going to try,’ replied d’Artagnan.

MMMM

A few minutes later they were all huddled around a table, in the tavern where Aramis and d’Artagnan had been interrupted by the news of the latest attack.

Aramis nodded, agreeing with d’Artagnan’s description of the toothless old man they had talked to earlier in the day.

‘Honestly, he had no fat on him. He was just bones,’ said d’Artagnan with a sigh. ‘But he gave the same description. He must have seen a lot during his lifetime but this thing scared him-’

‘I don’t think he would be the sort to scare easily,’ interjected Aramis.

‘No,’ continued d’Artagnan, ‘he said that the thing shone and sparkled. He said it was like eyes blinking in the light… like cats eyes in the torch light.’

Aramis nodded with a slight smile, ‘like the freakish black cat that jumped on you, Athos. That made us all jump.’

‘Even you,’ chuckled d’Artagnan.

‘Even me,’ said Aramis.

‘This man,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘he referred to the thing, the man, whatever it is, as the Devilman or something like that.’

Athos leaned forward, ‘that was the name the people we spoke to gave it as well. Or names along those lines.’

They paused as the serving woman lay a tray on their table. Aramis helped her to move the bowls of stew off the tray earning himself a coquettish smile. The woman was called away by another table in the busy tavern before she could strike up a conversation. Aramis pushed the bowls towards his friend noting that Porthos did not react to the enticing aromas of the stew. His friend had been unusually quiet since arriving. Athos had done all the talking for the pair as they pooled what they had learned. 

The four Musketeers took a few minutes to eat their stew and drink some of the wine. A scraggly dog wandered up to the table looking for scraps. Porthos absentmindedly threw the dog a lump of meat which was wolfed down in seconds. The dog settled next to Porthos who scratched its head in between eating his food. Aramis did not like seeing his friend so distracted. He noticed that Athos was watching him as well. 

As d’Artagnan finished his food he continued to relate what they had heard during their time in the streets surrounding the Court of Miracles before their more recent encounter with the attacker.

‘There was a man, he was in his forties I’d say…’

Aramis nodded his agreement.

‘He was a cripple, sitting on some steps. He said he’d seen the thing, he called it a Hell creature I think. He said…’ d’Artagnan paused and shook his head in disbelief of what he was about to say. ‘He said that it disappeared and reappeared. He saw it coming along the street with its glowing eyes and menace before it disappeared… Only to reappear from the other side of the street. He said there was no way it could have got to the other side of the street without him seeing. Not in the time-’

Athos, who had been about to take a sip of wine, was staring at d’Artagnan. Porthos was staring straight ahead, Aramis could not work out what his friend was thinking.

‘- I know,’ said d’Artagnan, ‘it’s ridiculous.’

Athos said, ‘we heard similar stories. And just now, the same descriptions. There are many common threads. Differing descriptions but on the whole, I believe we are looking at one attacker. Did any of the people you spoke to say they were strangled?’

Aramis nodded, ‘the ones that were not robbed were not touched, only scared, they were threatened with the beast's claws. But the ones that had items stolen from them - usually the tradesmen, or those with a little wealth - they were throttled or injured with the claw. One was rendered unconscious, although he was a fit man who fought back, he managed to get a couple of punches in.’

Athos looked across the table at Porthos, ‘why did you lie earlier?’

Porthos finally made eye contact with Athos.

‘I didn’t lie,’ he said defensively. 

‘You’re lying now,’ said Aramis, ‘I’ve known you for years, Porthos, I know when you have something on your mind. You’ve been preoccupied ever since Treville told us about these attacks.’

Porthos looked away for a few seconds; he stroked the scraggly dog and sighed. They waited patiently for him to respond. 

‘I remember the same attacks from when I was a child,’ he finally said. 

Athos raised his eyebrows, ‘why not tell us before?’ he asked. 

Porthos looked away again.

‘Because I didn’t think you’d believe me,’ he said. ‘Because I didn’t believe it myself. I was five. There are periods of my life back then that I can’t remember. Some things I can’t remember at all and some I can only remember bits and pieces of. I always thought I imagined it. The rumours, the fear that I lived in…’

Aramis reached up and squeezed his friend's shoulder, ‘why wouldn’t we believe you?’

‘Because it can’t be the same man, can it? What I think I remember was years ago. I was a child. How can this be the same man?’

‘Man?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Porthos huffed out a laugh, ‘of course, it’s a man. It’s not some supernatural being, despite what they all say. Someone is out to scare them, and succeeding.’

Aramis and d’Artagnan had spent most of the day humouring the people they spoke with. All had believed the thing they had seen or been attacked by, was a being or creature that did not belong on the Earth. In order to keep the people talking, they had not dismissed the ludicrous suggestions. 

‘The last man we talked to, he thought you knew about the attacker,’ said Athos.

‘Like I said to him, all the descriptions were adding up… and yes I was remembering the descriptions from when I was a child-’

‘Did you see it, when you were a child?’ asked Athos, his tone not quite accusatory, but one that demanded an honest answer. 

Porthos started to speak but stopped himself, he shifted awkwardly. Aramis could tell he was not enjoying being the centre of attention. When he finally answered the question they could tell it was difficult for him.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I have a blurry recollection of seeing it. I only remember the fear, the abject terror…’

He trailed off for a few seconds. They waited in silence for him to continue.

‘I didn’t want to say anything because I can’t add anything. I have no clear image of it. I’d forgotten about it until yesterday when Treville gave the description. Even then all I could remember was the fear.’

Athos nodded, ‘you should have said something,’ he said. ‘You did not have to come with us today-’

Porthos laughed, ‘I know now - as an adult - that it is not a creature from Hell. I know it’s just a man. And I can deal with a man… And I want to deal with this man.’

Porthos was sitting straight in his chair, the reluctance to participate in the discussion gone. 

‘In which case,’ said Athos. ‘We should return to the garrison and update the Captain with our findings.’

MMMM


	3. Chapter 3

The garrison was quiet, most of the men were out in the city patrolling or on guard duty. The cadets were enjoying a well-earned break. A couple of stable boys were busy with some of the horses but otherwise, the Musketeers were alone as they made their way to the mess. D’Artagnan found them wine and cups as they settled down to wait for the Captain to return from his duties at the Palace. Aramis built up the fire a little before taking a seat next to Porthos who had gone back to his quiet contemplative mood.

‘Can you remember anything else about the attacker from your childhood?’ asked Athos who was sitting at the table, the wine bottle a few inches from his hand.

Porthos shook his head and shrugged, ‘to be honest I would be mixing up what little I do remember with the rumours we’ve gathered today. I know that most of what they’ve said matches up but that’s it.’

Athos nodded, d’Artagnan could tell his friend wanted more information but it was clear Porthos had nothing else to add.

The room was quiet for a few moments. D’Artagnan watched Porthos nodding off. He was sitting by the fire gazing at the flames. The troubled Musketeer finally looked settled. Porthos was embarrassed to admit the irrational fear he had felt as a child. D’Artagnan knew that perceptions changed over time. What had terrified the young Porthos years before would not affect him now, as an adult. But the memories were still affecting their friend. Aramis had told them that Porthos had not slept well the previous night and now they knew why.

Athos turned the cup of wine around in his hands lost in thought. Aramis sighed and reached for the bottle of wine, his hand stopping when a mumble came from Porthos.

‘Devil,’ their friend said. ‘Devil man.’

Aramis leaned closer to his friend. Porthos, despite being asleep, looked tense. He had clenched his right hand, fisting the leather of his breeches between his fingers.

‘Stay hidden,’ mumbled Porthos, turning his head slightly.

His breathing had sped up. Aramis lay his hand on Porthos’ arm and shook him. The reaction from the dreaming man was fast and violent. He moved away from Aramis, twisting to the right enough to raise his bent arm and elbowed his friend catching him in the stomach. Aramis huffed as the breath was pushed out of him. He stumbled away ending up leaning against the wall. Porthos still had his arm up, his hand raised, fingers splayed, in a defensive position.

MMMM

_Thirty years before…_

Porthos knew no one would come to help him. He knew that no one would care that the thing was coming for him.

His mother was dead. There was no one to protect him.

The thing got closer. Porthos pushed himself as far into his doorway as he could. He was small but he could not disappear completely.

He tugged at his blanket, pulling it tight around him.

The shapeless, many-eyed, thing was only a few feet away. He could make out that it was roughly the shape of a man but with no arms or legs. Just a body covered with eyes.

From somewhere within the body an arm emerged. The end of the arm was shining. Porthos could see the claw.

He had heard about the claw.

Before his mother had died, she would talk to the other women. They all talked about the thing with the claw. Porthos had never understood. His mother had kept him close.

Now he knew why.

The thing got closer. The claw stretched out in front of it...

MMMM

_Now..._

D'Artagnan looked at Aramis, who, although trying to catch his breath, was showing more interest and worry towards his friend.

Athos grabbed Porthos’ arm trying to still the confused man. Porthos pushed him away.

‘No.’

D’Artagnan joined Athos and pushed Porthos’ shoulders back.

‘Porthos. Wake up,’ said d’Artagnan.

It took Porthos several seconds to focus on d’Artagnan and stop pulling away from his friends. A tense few moments followed as Porthos settled his breathing. Athos and d’Artagnan released their hold on him. He looked at them both with confusion, followed by realisation. He looked at Aramis who was still leaning against the wall.

‘That must have been a vivid dream,’ remarked Aramis as he rubbed his hand across his stomach where Porthos had hit him.

Porthos leaned back in his chair, losing focus again for a few seconds.

‘It was about when I saw the man. I remember it more clearly now.’

Porthos looked up at them again. Athos picked up one of the cups of wine from the table and handed it to him. Porthos took it gratefully.

‘I think it was only a few weeks after my mother died…’

He paused for a few moments. D’Artagnan guessed he was pushing unpleasant thoughts away.

‘I hadn’t found anyone to look after me. I was living on scraps and the goodwill of the other people in the court. There was a doorway I would sleep in. A threadbare blanket was the only thing I owned… The… Devil Man was one of my first memories of being alone. My mother had told me about the scary man. Until she died, I’d not gone around on my own.’

Athos asked, ‘the attacks were going on for a while. Focused on the slums and the court?’

Porthos nodded, ‘I can’t remember how long they went on for,’ he said. ‘The passage of time for me was difficult to keep track of.’

‘But he preyed on the same people as is happening now?’ asked Aramis as he took his seat next to Porthos.

‘Yes. I was one of the unfortunate children he picked on. I remember it was a particularly cold night. I couldn’t sleep. I was sitting in the doorway with the blanket over me and I was shivering. I saw a figure coming along the road. It floated. I know it was just a man, but to five-year-old me… it floated. It wasn’t a man. The other street people were calling him a Devil Man. I knew what the Devil was. I knew I should be scared.’

Porthos paused. He took another drink of wine and stared into the distance for a while. They waited for him to continue.

‘As he got closer, I knew he had seen me. He was floating towards me. I pushed myself back as far as I could, but he kept coming. I saw the light coming from him-’

‘You saw that?’ asked d’Artagnan. ‘I thought people were making that up. Only saying it because that was part of the collective description. It didn’t make sense to us as some were getting strangled and others threatened or hurt with the claw.’

‘It was like he was on fire,’ Porthos continued. ‘He stopped a couple of feet away from me and reached out with his claw-’

‘What did the claw look like?’ asked Athos.

All the listening men were leaning forward concentrating on what their friend had to say.

‘I’m not sure if I remember it correctly. It shone and flickered. I think it was metallic. But to me then it was like something from Hell.’

Porthos looked away.

D’Artagnan broke the silence, ‘it’s no wonder people are scared. There’s going to be people who remember it from the first time around and their stories will only be embellishing what’s going on now.’

‘Did the man hurt you?’ asked Aramis.

Porthos shook his head, ‘no. He held the claw in front of my face for a few seconds before moving off along the road. I was so scared I didn’t move for the rest of the night. It wasn’t until the people that lived in the house opened the door and shooed me away that I moved.’

Porthos furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. He went to say something but stopped.

‘Whatever it is that you’ve remembered, tell us,’ said Aramis. ‘We’ll believe you.’

‘I think he disappeared and reappeared.’

Aramis leaned back and raised his eyebrows.

Porthos shrugged, ‘I know. It’s ridiculous-’

D’Artagnan held up his hand and glanced at Aramis, ‘remember two of the people we spoke to - separately - said the same thing.’

‘But how can he be doing that?’ asked Porthos.

‘We will catch him and ask him,’ said Athos. ‘I believe it is only luck that no one has been killed yet.’

D’Artagnan was inclined to agree. Several of the victims had been hurt but none seriously. It was only a matter of time before the attacker picked on someone who fought back a little harder and was on the receiving end of the claw-like weapon they were using.

The door to the mess was pushed open by Treville who stepped into the room and took in the scene.

‘I take it you have an update?’ he asked. ‘Are you alright Porthos?’

Athos indicated for the Captain to sit at the table. They spent a few minutes updating him and Porthos recounted what had happened to him as a child. D’Artagnan could see nothing but sympathy in the Captain’s eyes.

‘I’ve known soldiers forget particularly bloody battles,’ said Treville. ‘I think the mind does it to protect us. If something is so traumatic it would leave us vulnerable if we could remember it we push it away… I am not sure if we should be glad that you have remembered the details or not.’

Porthos still looked a little uncomfortable, ‘I can’t add anything to what we’ve already found out,’ he said.

‘But you understand what these people are going through,’ said Aramis. ‘Better than any of us can.’

‘Do any of you have a suggestion of how we might proceed,’ asked Treville, who wanted to move the focus from his troubled Musketeer.

They looked at each other for a few seconds. D’Artagnan could not think of any specific plan. He searched the faces of his brothers to see if they were on the verge of coming up with something. It was Porthos who leaned forward in his chair and spoke first.

‘Bait,’ he said.

Treville sighed, he leaned back a little, ‘I suppose it is the most obvious way to draw this man out. We do not have the resources or enough clues to search for him. And we cannot lay in wait around every corner in the hope that he will strike.’

Aramis nodded, ‘but who would agree to put themselves in danger?’ he asked.

‘We’ll do it,’ said Porthos.

‘Are you proposing we disguise ourselves as people from the slums?’ asked Athos, unable to hide the disdain at the thought.

Porthos chuckled, ‘I doubt we could pass ourselves off as the poor. We’re all too well fed. But we could be passing through the area. Tradesmen or businessmen of some description. We couldn’t be in a higher class or it would look odd. But shop owners on their way home… something like that.’

Aramis took up the planning, ‘the weather is cool, we could wear cloaks to conceal who we are. There is a likelihood we would be recognised or remembered from earlier. Hooded cloaks could hide our appearance and a weapon. I think we would have to be minimally armed.’

D’Artagnan always marvelled at how his brothers could come up with a plan, all seemingly thinking along the same lines. He had felt fully integrated into the group a few months before when he realised, he had started doing the same thing.

‘If two of us act as bait, the others can follow at a distance,’ d’Artagnan said, he noticed Porthos and Aramis nodding as he spoke.

‘I want to be one of the people acting as bait,’ said Porthos.

Treville smiled, ‘I would expect nothing less,’ he said.

‘I will join you,’ said Athos.

The four Musketeers looked at each other for a few seconds. The plan formulated, they only needed to make it happen.

MMMM

_That night..._

They sourced some clothes that gave them the appearance of traders or shop owners. The cool weather meant they could wear hooded cloaks. If the attacker were to recognise them as Musketeers, he probably would not attack them. Each man would only be armed with a concealed dagger.

They left the garrison as dusk fell. Athos allowed Porthos to dictate the route they took. His friend had rallied himself after the awkward revelations a few hours before. His determination to neutralise the villain that was stalking his former home and the surrounding area was written on his face.

‘I’m sorry I kept it from you,’ said Porthos as they walked. ‘I was struggling to believe it was happening again. And with the memories so jumbled in my head, I wasn’t even sure if I had seen the “Hell Beast” before.’

Athos shook his head, ‘I think you can be forgiven. If your reaction to dreaming about it was anything to go by it must have been a horrific experience. We have spoken to capable men who have been rendered quivering wrecks. I cannot begin to imagine what it would be like for a child to have to experience it.’

Porthos shook his head, ‘it is something I wish I could forget again,’ he said. ‘Even the odd fractured memories were horrible. But now I can remember it clearly.’

Athos glanced at his friend, unable to see his face now that they had pulled their hoods over their heads.

‘Are you sure you want to do this? I’m sure Aramis or d’Artagnan would swap with you.’

After a few seconds, Porthos responded, ‘no I want to do this. Whoever it is has hurt people. My people. I may not be as welcome there anymore, but I still feel a need to protect them.’

Athos could understand. He did not know what it felt like to be from a tight-knit community. His only exposure to something remotely like that was since he had joined the Musketeers. He would lay down his life for his comrades. Porthos was prepared to put himself in harm's way to help the people of his former home.

They continued to walk further into the city. With only a dagger each to defend themselves, Athos was glad to have Aramis and d’Artagnan following them at a discreet distance. It would be a fine balance between reacting quickly and maintaining the illusion that they were tradesmen.

Porthos turned them into a side street that they knew had seen some of the attacks. Athos knew it was time to fully get into character and entice the Hell Beast to attack.

‘I made a good deal today,’ he said, loudly enough for anyone hiding in a doorway to hear.

‘You told me it would be tomorrow,’ said Porthos.

‘They came through early,’ replied Athos. ‘I collected the money a couple of hours ago.’

Athos tapped his doublet as he spoke to indicate he had the money on him.

‘A tidy sum if I recall,’ said Porthos.

‘Indeed,’ replied Athos, ‘the wine is on me tonight.’

They both chuckled.

Porthos rubbed his left arm, Athos coughed.

They had agreed on the signal before they set out. They were being watched.

Athos found himself unconsciously reaching for the dagger tucked into his belt. He stopped himself. The feeling of being watched intensified. A shuffling step behind him indicated the robber was there. They both turned. As Athos got his first look at the attacker, he barely had time to take in the ragged cloak and a flash of steel before he was bundled to the ground.

He smacked his head hard on the cobbles. As his greyed vision cleared, he threw his right arm up to block the strike of the claw. The movements were too fast for him to fully take in what he was seeing.

A searing pain flared in his forearm. He tried to push the man off him but only succeeded in pulling a scarf off his face. The attacker, who was very much a human, stared at Athos for several seconds.

Did Athos see a spark of recognition?

The moment was short-lived. Before he could rally himself against the pain, the man punched him. Athos felt his strength leave him and the greyness threatened him. A second punch was the last thing he was aware of.

MMMM


	4. Chapter 4

Aramis pulled the cloak tighter about his shoulders as they reached the area the supposed Hell Beast prowled. D’Artagnan had buttoned his plain cloak up, covering his pauldron and weapons from sight. They could see Athos and Porthos ahead of them. The pair were walking confidently, not paying particular attention to their surroundings. They did not have to. Aramis and d’Artagnan were doing that for them. 

‘Do you think this will work?’ asked d’Artagnan without taking his eyes off their brothers.

Aramis shrugged, ‘I hope it does. But we must be prepared for it not to. The Beast might be working in a different area tonight. He might move around so that he can’t get caught like this.’

They continued to follow their friends who turned into a quieter side street. They quickened their pace but found their route blocked by a number of men exiting a building in front of them. Aramis realised they had been visiting a brothel. They had done something to earn the disapproval of the madame in charge of the establishment. She was yelling at them. Two brutish scarred men were bundling the clients onto the street. 

The two Musketeers forced their way through the annoyed men to reach the side street Porthos and Athos had walked down. Aramis prayed the delay would not be costly. 

His prayer was not answered. 

As they turned into the street they took in the scene. 

A black-clad figure bent over the prone form of Athos. The figure had hold of Athos by the shoulder keeping him still. A flash of steel glinted. Aramis spotted blood on the weapon. A quick move by the attacker saw him remove the weapon leaving it hidden within his sparkling cloak. A more usual method of attack followed. The man punched the weakly struggling Athos. 

D’Artagnan yelled, announcing their presence. Much as they wanted to catch the attacker, they wanted to keep Athos alive more. The figure had been reaching into his cloak when he looked up. Aramis could not make out his features. What he was sure about was that the man had intended to kill Athos, only prevented by their timely arrival. 

The man gathered the fabric of his cloak and scrambled up. He charged off in the opposite direction as the Musketeers rushed forward. 

Aramis skidded to his knees by his injured friend. He was aware of d’Artagnan talking to Porthos who was standing a couple of feet away staring along the street in the direction the figure had gone. Aramis had to concentrate on Athos who had injuries to his forearm and hand.

‘Porthos?’ d’Artagnan said.

Aramis glanced up at d’Artagnan as he spoke. He was standing to the side of Porthos who had not moved. D’Artagnan reached up and shook his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to get the silent man to respond. Porthos remained still. 

Aramis returned his attention to Athos. He checked the unconscious man for any other, less obvious, injuries. Aramis was pleased not to find anything. He straightened Athos’ legs and moved his injured arm to lay across his chest. After pulling his medics bag off his shoulder he found a couple of cloths and bandages. The cuts to Athos’ arm and hand were bleeding and would need attention. Aramis wanted to deal with them back at the garrison infirmary in better light and cleaner conditions. 

‘D’Artagnan, help me with Athos,’ said Aramis without looking up. 

He was aware of his friend stepping closer and crouching down. Aramis directed d’Artagnan to apply pressure to each wound in turn as he wrapped bandages around them. 

‘Porthos is just staring into the distance,’ said d’Artagnan quietly. 

Aramis glanced up again, he shook his head. 

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Watch Athos for a moment.’

D’Artagnan nodded and moved closer to Athos, resting his hand on the injured man feeling for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he took each breath. 

Aramis got to his feet and reached out to Porthos, shaking his arm firmly. 

‘Porthos!’ he said. ‘Snap out of it.’

He moved to stand directly in front of Porthos so that he was in his friend's line of sight. Porthos did not look at him, he seemed to be looking through him. Aramis sighed; he had seen the reaction in soldiers on battlefields occasionally. Much as he wanted to be gentle with his traumatised friend, his need to care for Athos was greater at that moment. They were exposed on the street. If the mystery assailant did not return, others might attack them. He and d’Artagnan could easily be overwhelmed. 

Porthos’ expression was one of fear. He was scared. An emotion Aramis rarely saw in his friend. Apprehension or worry for someone else, perhaps, but never fear for himself. 

‘We need to go, Porthos,’ he said firmly, shaking his friend again. 

When there was still no reaction Aramis did the only other thing he could think of. He slapped Porthos across the face. 

Porthos blinked and stumbled back a couple of paces. He looked about for a few seconds before his eyes settled on Aramis. 

‘What…’

D’Artagnan shifted causing Porthos to look down. His eyes widened with shock. 

‘Athos!’

He took a step forward before stopping again. He looked at Aramis. Aramis could see realisation dawning on his troubled friend. 

‘I… I…’ 

Aramis closed the gap between them and put his hand on Porthos’ shoulder.

‘Don’t worry about it now,’ he said. ‘We need to get Athos to safety. We need to get away from here in case he… or someone else, wants to have a go.’

Porthos stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. He did not move until Aramis gave him a gentle shove in the direction of a handcart a few feet away. They would see the liberated cart returned before morning. With luck, the owner would never know they had borrowed it to transport an injured Musketeer to the garrison. 

MMMM

_Later… ___

__D’Artagnan was forced to push an apologetic Porthos to sit on one of the beds in the infirmary. The confused Musketeer had been in danger of getting in Aramis’ way as he worked to deal with Athos’ wounds. Once he was sure Porthos would remain where he had been put, d’Artagnan returned to the table where Aramis and Barbotin were busy manipulating the still unconscious man so that they could take off his doublet. Barbotin, another of the garrison’s field medics, did not need to be told what to do, he worked quickly and calmly._ _

__‘Those cuts must be bad,’ Barbotin said as he ripped Athos’ shirt at the sleeves._ _

__The temporary bandages were stained red where the bleeding had not stopped. Aramis nodded grimly._ _

__‘How did he cut his hand? Did he grab for a weapon and grasp the blade instead?’_ _

__Aramis shrugged, ‘no idea.’_ _

__‘I should have stopped him,’ said Porthos quietly. ‘I should have done something. Why didn’t I do something?’_ _

__D’Artagnan looked back at his friend who was watching them, his expression still one of confusion. The question was answered by the Captain who had stepped into the room unnoticed by the rest of them._ _

__‘You were caught up with your memories, Porthos,’ said the Captain. ‘We, perhaps, should have envisioned this.’_ _

__The Captain’s words were not unkind, but he meant what he said. He turned his attention to Athos._ _

__‘How is he?’_ _

__D’Artagnan stepped back from the table as the two medics continued to work._ _

__‘He’s been knocked unconscious,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘We saw the attacker punch him a couple of times. And he has an injury to his arm which was done by the claw weapon-’_ _

__‘And the cut to his hand,’ finished Aramis. ‘We don’t know how that happened.’_ _

__Treville stepped closer, watching Barbotin unwrap the temporary bandage from Athos’ right hand. A long deep gash was revealed across the palm of his hand, over the underside of his thumb with a few further cuts to his fingers._ _

__‘It looks as though he grabbed something sharp,’ said d’Artagnan as he tried to see the injury in the best light._ _

__Barbotin reached for a couple of cloths, he lay one under Athos’ hand and soaked the other in clean water. He squeezed out the water over the injury, flushing out any debris that had become embedded._ _

__‘What’s that?’ asked Treville as he reached for something that had fallen from the wound._ _

__He held the object up using his thumb and forefinger. It was translucent with a green tinge of colour._ _

__‘It’s glass,’ said Barbotin after a few seconds._ _

__‘Stained glass,’ added Aramis who had looked up from his work on Athos’ other injury. ‘From a church perhaps?’_ _

__The Captain twisted the glass in his fingers. D’Artagnan watched as the flames from the hearth caught the reflective sides, causing it to glint._ _

__‘The eyes.’_ _

__They all looked across to Porthos who was watching the movement of the glass._ _

__‘That’s how he made his cloak shine and sparkle…’_ _

__D’Artagnan reached out and took the piece of glass from the Captain, he moved closer to the fire to get a better look at it._ _

__‘There are grooves in the edges,’ he said. ‘I think it was sewn onto his cloak. If he had enough bits of glass he only had to be near a light source and he would appear alight, but in an-’_ _

__‘Ethereal or otherworldly way,’ concluded Porthos with a shake of his head. ‘How was I taken in by that?’_ _

__Treville turned to face Porthos, ‘because you were five, Porthos. You were a child. You can look at this now and scoff at how ludicrous it is. You’ve said it yourself that you see it differently now.’_ _

__D’Artagnan could tell Porthos did not feel any better. He kept glancing at Athos, the guilt was still easily visible on his face. Treville regarded Porthos for a few moments before looking back at Athos. Aramis and Barbotin were each wielding a needle. D’Artagnan hated to imagine how painful the cut to Athos’ palm would be. He watched Barbotin put two neat stitches in to close the wound. Aramis was forced to use more stitches on the wound to Athos’ arm._ _

__‘What was the claw weapon?’ asked Treville._ _

__‘It was metallic,’ said d’Artagnan._ _

__‘And sharp,’ said Aramis. ‘The cuts are clean.’_ _

__‘Could it have been something they wore on their hand, like one of those steel-plated gloves soldiers wore with their armour - like the ones on display at the Palace?’ asked Porthos._ _

__D’Artagnan knew what Porthos meant. He had often looked at the armour and tried to imagine how heavy and unwieldy it would be to fight in. The armour the Musketeers wore was not nearly as restrictive._ _

__‘The blades could have been added to the knuckles,’ mused Treville._ _

__D’Artagnan helped Barbotin to clear away the bloodied cloths and water before returning to Athos’ side. His friend had shown no sign of coming around, which he thought was a good thing whilst he was being tended to by the medics but now it was unnerving. Aramis was preparing one of the infirmary beds for their friend. He was glancing at Porthos who had wandered towards the window, staring vacantly out across the garrison yard._ _

__‘Help me move him to the bed,’ said Aramis._ _

__Between them, Aramis, d’Artagnan, and Barbotin carried Athos to the bed and covered him with a couple of blankets._ _

__‘I’ll sit with him for a while,’ said Aramis, ‘he shouldn’t be alone when he wakes up.’_ _

__Treville nodded his agreement before looking at Porthos who was still staring out of the window._ _

__‘I think,’ said the Captain, ‘that you shouldn’t play any further active part in this investigation, Porthos.’_ _

__D’Artagnan looked between the two men. Treville’s expression was one of concern, not anger. Porthos took a few seconds to turn around and acknowledge the order. He nodded._ _

__‘I’m a liability,’ he said, his voice unusually quiet._ _

__Aramis tried to placate his friend, ‘it could have been any of us... being affected by something.’_ _

__‘I shouldn’t have been the one to act as bait,’ countered Porthos. ‘I should have foreseen this-’_ _

__‘No, Porthos,’ said Treville, injecting authority in his voice for the first time, ‘I should have thought it through. I knew you had been affected by this and were not thinking straight. You are not to blame yourself. And you know Athos will not blame you.’_ _

__Porthos did not respond. D’Artagnan could tell he was not ready to accept that he was not to blame for the injuries Athos had received._ _

__‘I want you to take a little time away from duty,’ continued Treville. ‘Just until you’ve worked it through in your mind. Accept that you are not at fault. I’ll expect you at muster in two days.’_ _

__Porthos did not look happy at the apparent dismissal by his Captain. D’Artagnan wanted to say something but had no idea how to put his friend at ease. He looked at Aramis who appeared to be having the same thoughts._ _

__‘Let me know when he wakes up,’ said the Captain with a gesture toward Athos._ _

__He left the room, indicating for Barbotin to join him. Once they were alone Porthos went back to looking out of the window for a few seconds before he turned back to them._ _

__‘I’ll relieve you in a few hours,’ he said to Aramis. ‘If I’m not fit for active duty I can probably manage to sit in a chair and watch over Athos.’_ _

__‘Where are you going?’ asked Aramis, as Porthos walked to the door._ _

__‘For a walk… the Captain said I needed time to accept I’m not at fault. That’s difficult when I’m in the same room as the man my inactivity caused harm to.’_ _

__All they could do was watch their troubled friend walk from the room._ _

__MMMM_ _


	5. Chapter 5

Aramis had his attention drawn away from Porthos by a low moan from Athos. He lay a restraining hand on his friend’s chest and put himself in Athos’ line of vision. Athos opened his eyes, blinking a few times before managing to keep them open. He looked unfocused for several seconds. Aramis waited patiently, ready for whatever reaction Athos gave. 

Athos looked around the room for a few seconds before lifting his injured arm and wincing. 

‘Several stitches to your arm and a couple on your hand,’ Aramis informed him, keeping his voice neutral. ‘You won’t be lifting a sword for a while. Bang on the head and some general bruises. You’re going to be stiff and probably nauseous for a bit. Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure.’

Athos managed a small nod before looking around the room.

‘Porthos?’ he asked, his voice croaky.

Aramis glanced at d’Artagnan, who stepped forward. 

‘He’s gone for some air,’ said the younger Musketeer. ‘He feels guilty about what happened.’

Athos looked into the distance for a few seconds, ‘I remember the man tripping me to the ground and banging my head. I remember pain in my arm.’

‘He used the claw weapon on you,’ said Aramis. ‘And we’ve worked out he had coloured glass sewn into his cloak to create the ‘Devil Eyes’ effect. We think you grabbed at him, which is how your palm was cut.’

Athos looked to his side, searching for something. 

‘Porthos?’ he said for the second time. 

Aramis realised the knock to the head had left Athos unable to remember things. He hoped the effect of the head injury would not last. 

‘He went for some air,’ said d’Artagnan again.

Athos looked at d’Artagnan for a few seconds. Aramis wondered if he was remembering having already asked the question.

‘He froze, didn’t he?’

Aramis nodded, ‘the memories got the better of him. Treville’s relieved him of duty for a couple of days.’

Athos tried to sit up; Aramis stopped him.

‘Relieved him of duty?’

Aramis nodded, ‘the Captain wanted to give him a bit of time. This has dragged up things from his childhood that he hadn’t thought about for years. But Porthos’ taken it a bit personally. He’ll be alright.’

Aramis hoped he had sounded more positive than he felt. Athos sighed and tried to sit up again, although not as quickly. Aramis steadied him before handing him a cup of water. 

‘Can you remember anything about the man that attacked you?’ asked d’Artagnan.

‘I saw his face,’ said Athos. ‘He was wearing a scarf. I must have pulled it off in the struggle… I am sure I recognise him, but I cannot remember where from.’

Aramis took the cup from Athos as he said, ‘don’t try to remember. You’ll only make your headache worse.’

Athos nodded, ‘I know. But it is frustrating.’

A few shouts from outside made Athos wince. Aramis glanced out of the window. He could see a group of cadets returning. They were laughing and joking with each other; the noise they were making was not excessive. But to a man recovering from a head injury, it would have sounded far louder. 

‘I’ll tell them to be quiet,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘No,’ said Athos. ‘I would rather return to my rooms.’

Aramis glared at his friend, ‘I don’t think that’s wise,’ he said. ‘You’ve been assaulted, you can barely keep your eyes open-’

‘And it will be quiet there,’ countered Athos. ‘And you can sit with me overnight if you are going to insist that I need watching.’

D’Artagnan smirked. Aramis sighed and nodded. 

‘I have wine,’ added Athos.

‘It had better be a good bottle,’ muttered Aramis as he picked up Athos’ doublet, which had been laying on the next bed. 

MMMM

_Meanwhile… ___

__Porthos walked without paying attention to his surroundings. He looked at the people that he passed. Any of the men could be the one that was responsible for the attacks. Porthos began to assess each man as they went by. He dismissed the old men, the cripples, and any that were significantly younger than him. They knew the attacker was fit and would either remember the previous attacks or know someone who was around when they happened._ _

__As he walked, Porthos tried not to think about what had happened with Athos. He tried not to think about how he had frozen, like a scared child. How he was aware that his friend was being attacked but he did nothing. How would he be able to forgive himself? Athos could have been killed. Treville had relieved him of duty for a couple of days. Porthos wondered if the Captain would have liked to keep him away from any responsibility for longer. He was a liability._ _

__What good was he as a Musketeer if he allowed his friend to be attacked whilst he stood by? Porthos had allowed his fear to get the better of him. He had allowed something that happened years before to affect his work that day._ _

__Porthos felt pathetic._ _

__He walked aimlessly, wandering along familiar roads and streets. Without intending to, he found himself at the scene of the earlier attack on Athos. The street was empty. Due to the lateness of the hour, the only people likely to venture along it would be the people who lived there._ _

__There was enough ambient light from the few houses nearby that still had fires lit. Porthos looked at the spot where Athos had been attacked. He took a deep breath, inwardly cursing his cowardice. He could still see the attacker. The cloak that shone and sparkled, the hidden face, the claw. Porthos had to keep reminding himself that it was a man and not a supernatural being._ _

__Porthos forced himself to look at his surroundings. He may have been relieved of duty, but he could still be useful. He wondered if any of the residents had seen the attack. He would return in the morning and knock on a few of the doors. Until then, all he had was his observational skills. And Porthos prided himself on being able to spot anything that was out of place._ _

__They had been attacked from behind. Porthos looked back along the street. He spotted a set of wooden steps with space underneath them. A man could have hidden away with ease. They had deliberately made no effort to look around when they walked along the road earlier._ _

__There was nothing of use in the space under the steps. Porthos stood in the shadows, looking up and down the street. He tried to imagine he was the attacker. He would need to know the area and need to know which way he could escape. Further along the street, Porthos could see other dark doorways and side alleyways. There were plenty of places a man could hide. The attacker might have remained and watched Aramis and d'Artagnan tend to Athos._ _

__Watched whilst Porthos did nothing._ _

__He shook his head; he could not allow his failure to continue to cause him problems. He had to concentrate._ _

__If the man had watched the aftermath of his attack, he would know the Musketeers were investigating. Porthos wondered if that might make him more careful from then on. He doubted it would make the man stop._ _

__Something moving in a gentle breeze caught his eyes. It appeared to be a rag caught around the edge of a crate next to a couple of steps leading to one of the houses. Porthos eased the fabric from the crate and looked at it. The tatty piece of black fabric had creases at either end. Porthos was reminded of the creases in the bandanas he wore where he tied the knot. The rag was long enough to act as a scarf._ _

__Porthos fiddled with the fabric for a few seconds as he gazed into the distance. Something in the back of his mind was telling him the rag was important. He remembered the scarf from somewhere, but he could not place it. He pushed the tatty scarf into his pocket and walked a few paces trying to work out where the attacker would have gone. As he walked, he continued to try to drag the memory from the back of his mind. As the memory surfaced, he stopped in his tracks._ _

__The last man they had talked to that morning. The scruffy man who knew that Porthos remembered the attacks. Porthos pulled the scarf from his pocket again and looked at it. He remembered the man was wearing it to try to cover up the bruises on his neck. The man had seemed self-conscious of them when Athos pointed them out. Porthos remembered thinking it odd that the man would try to hide the result of the attack on him._ _

__Unless the bruises were caused by someone fighting back?_ _

__Had they spoken to the attacker earlier in the day and not realised it? Porthos shook his head. The man had been scrawny and did not look strong enough to attack other men. Something did not add up._ _

__But he had something to contribute to the search. He had a solid lead. Porthos turned back towards the garrison. As he walked another thought struck him. The man may have been using the scarf to cover his face when he attacked people. If Athos had pulled the scarf off him during the attack, his friend would have seen the man’s face. Porthos wondered if Athos remembered the man as well. And the man would remember both Athos and him from earlier in the day. Which explained why the man had made such a concerted effort to kill Athos._ _

__Was Athos’ life still in danger?_ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos barely acknowledged the Musketeer watching the garrison gate as he hurried by. He walked towards the infirmary, unable to hide his confusion when he could not see any light from the room. He doubted Aramis would have left Athos alone. His friend should have been waiting for him to return and relieve him. Porthos pushed away the thought that Athos’ condition had deteriorated during the couple of hours since he left._ _

__‘They’re not here.’_ _

__Porthos turned to see Treville watching him._ _

__‘Athos wanted to return to his rooms for some peace,’ Treville glanced up at the sleeping quarters where a few rooms were still lit by the flicker of candlelight. ‘Some of the cadets had too much of a good time tonight and were still being boisterous when they returned.’_ _

__Treville took a few steps towards Porthos._ _

__‘What’s the matter?’ he asked. ‘Are you still blaming yourself? You know I don’t blame you. Relieving you of duty for a couple of days is not a punishment.’_ _

__Porthos shook his head, ‘no, Captain,’ he said. ‘I went back to where the attack on Athos happened. I found this.’_ _

__He held up the tatty scarf._ _

__‘The attacker was wearing it. I think Athos saw the man’s face.’_ _

__Treville nodded, ‘he did, but he did not recognise him. Although-’_ _

__‘What?’_ _

__‘He did say he thought he knew the man but could not remember where from.’_ _

__Porthos looked towards the garrison gate. Treville followed his gaze._ _

__‘Porthos, what is the matter?’ Treville said in a tone that demanded an answer._ _

__‘The attacker will know him though. He was one of the men we talked to earlier today. He didn’t seem capable, but I’m sure it’s the same man.’_ _

__Treville’s expression darkened, ‘he's not long gone. Aramis and d’Artagnan are with him, but they should know this development. Go after them… and Porthos…’_ _

__Porthos paused and looked at the Captain._ _

__‘Be careful, the man will remember you as well.’_ _

__Porthos nodded. He unconsciously felt for his weapons as he hurried from the garrison. He knew the route his friends would take to reach Athos’ rooms. With Athos injured, it would take them longer to walk through the streets. Porthos hoped he could catch them up quickly. He knew they would be vigilant as a matter of course, but an extra pair of eyes would not go amiss._ _

__When he saw his friends some way ahead of him, he quickened his pace again. Aramis had his arm snaked around Athos' waist. Athos was walking carefully. D’Artagnan was keeping close by, but Athos did not appear to need his help. Porthos smiled to himself. He wondered if his friend was humouring Aramis by letting him help support him._ _

__Porthos' smile faltered when he saw three men rush up to his friends. A brief melee followed. Porthos broke into a run as he watched Aramis being struck from behind. As he collapsed, he took Athos with him. D’Artagnan went to help but stopped when one of the men pointed a gun at him._ _

__A couple of men appeared in front of Porthos, stepping out of a side street. One of them said something about him and grabbed his arm. Porthos pushed the man away, his focus solely on reaching his friends further along the road. The second man pushed him to the side. Porthos rounded on the two men, he pulled his gun and aimed it at them. The men backed off. Porthos took a couple of paces forward. The first man grabbed the second and pulled him away. The attempted attack or robbery was foiled when the men realised, they were faced with an armed man who was prepared to fight back._ _

__As the men stumbled off, Porthos looked along the road hoping the delay had not proved costly to his friends._ _

__D’Artagnan was being forced into a grubby looking carriage. There was no sign of Athos or Aramis; he could only guess they were already in the carriage._ _

__Porthos was too late to help his friends._ _

__He stared in shock as he realised each of the three attackers was wearing a cloak. Each of the cloaks had glass sewn into them._ _

__Were all three men involved in the attacks?_ _

__MMMM_ _


	6. Chapter 6

_A few minutes before… ___

__Athos was pleased Aramis had not taken much persuasion to allow him to return to his rooms to convalesce. The noises of the garrison, whilst generally welcomed, were not something he wished to endure at that moment. His arm and his hand hurt where the stitches had been put in. The headache would ease over time he knew, but the quiet of his rooms would only speed up his recovery._ _

__D’Artagnan was walking alongside him, close enough to stop him falling if he stumbled. Aramis had not even asked if he wanted help as they walked from the garrison; his friend had not given him a choice. Athos would not admit it, but he was glad of the arm around his waist. The attack had left him feeling weak and somewhat pathetic. Athos would be pleased to reach the comfort of his rooms._ _

__Aramis was not rushing him. They walked at a steady pace. They had all experienced injuries over the years. They had all learned how to deal with them, and more importantly, how to deal with each other._ _

__When injured, Athos preferred little to no fuss. Porthos, on the other hand, liked to get as much attention as could be spared. D'Artagnan tended to be apologetic as if every injury he received was his fault. And Aramis would deny he was even hurt._ _

__The night was chilly, Athos wondered if there would be rain at some point that evening. His musing was cut short by d'Artagnan who was doing some musing of his own._ _

__'I wonder where he went?'_ _

__Athos sighed, 'he will probably have ended up at a tavern.‘_ _

__'He was quite upset,' said Aramis. ‘And distracted.‘_ _

__'Keep an eye on him,' said Athos. 'If he is feeling unnecessarily guilty, he might do something stupid.'_ _

__They walked on in silence for a few minutes. Athos concentrated on keeping his steps steady. The chilly air helped to clear his head. He knew he would continue to suffer for some hours to come but the thumping headache he had experienced when he first came around had receded to a dull roar._ _

__Athos hoped Porthos would not dwell on what had happened. They all had things in their past that occasionally affected their present. With luck, the couple of days Treville had given him away from his duties would be enough for him to work it through in his head. Athos knew that he needed time alone occasionally. Although, Porthos was not a man who generally sought solitude._ _

__Athos' thoughts were cut short by a sudden movement behind them. Aramis stumbled forward and crashed to the ground. Athos could not stop himself from being dragged down with his friend. He managed to get his uninjured arm underneath him and prevent too much pain being caused to his injuries._ _

__As he tried to untangle himself from Aramis, who was not moving, he heard a scuffle going on to his right. D'Artagnan was fighting with someone._ _

__'Stop.'_ _

__Athos could not prevent himself from being pulled up. An arm was wrapped around his neck. Whoever was holding him was strong. He tried to pull away, but the man only squeezed his arm tighter. With his free hand, the man aimed a gun at Aramis, who was lying sprawled on the ground, unmoving._ _

__D'Artagnan had been grappling with another two men. He stopped what he was doing when he saw the threat being made to both Athos and Aramis. He made eye contact with Athos who shook his head. They were in no position or capability to overpower their attackers at that moment._ _

__‘Get them in the carriage,’ said the man that was holding Athos._ _

__The two other men nodded. Athos was stunned to realise he recognised them both. One was the tatty man he and Porthos had talked to earlier in the day, and the other was the young man that had shown them the location of the most recent attack victim._ _

__The man that was holding Athos pulled him to his feet. Athos looked down, seeing the black, glass-covered cloak he was wearing swing into view with the movement. The other men were wearing similar cloaks._ _

__The younger man stepped towards Aramis and lay his hand on the still man’s back._ _

__‘Is he dead?’ asked the man holding Athos._ _

__The young man shook his head._ _

__‘Kill him,’ said the tatty man who was busy wrapping a rope around d’Artagnan’s wrists._ _

__The young man reached into his cloak and pulled out a dagger. The action caused d’Artagnan to move forward._ _

__‘No,’ said the older man, who moved so that he was aiming his gun at d’Artagnan. ‘Untie him, he can help you carry him to the carriage.’_ _

__‘What do you want?’ asked d’Artagnan who had wisely stopped struggling now that the immediate threat to Aramis was gone._ _

__None of the men responded. Athos was pulled back a few paces and disarmed by the man holding him. Aramis had his weapons roughly pulled from him before d’Artagnan and the two men pulled him up from the ground. The unconscious man had a few grazes on his cheek where he had been on the ground. Athos could only guess his friend was hit from behind and knocked unconscious._ _

__D’Artagnan was the only one of the three of them in a fit state. Athos hoped if his friend saw an opportunity to run, he would. But the continued threat to both himself and Aramis would probably keep d’Artagnan compliant to the attacker's orders._ _

__Aramis was bundled into the waiting carriage and left sprawled haphazardly on the floor. Athos was pushed up the steps and into the carriage by the man holding him who finally let him go. It took Athos a few seconds to orientate himself. D’Artagnan was pushed in behind him. The door closed. The carriage began to move almost immediately. D’Artagnan tried to open the door, finding it locked or bolted shut. He looked back at Athos shaking his head._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Despite their best efforts to escape the carriage, the three Musketeers were still prisoners by the time it reached its destination._ _

__They were forced out of the carriage at gunpoint. They had been driven into a private courtyard of a large house. Many windows overlooked the courtyard. D’Artagnan looked around, seeing no light coming from any of the windows. The place looked deserted. The only light came from a few burning torches in sconces around the courtyard and a couple of braziers near a large door._ _

__D’Artagnan got his first proper look at the man who had been holding Athos as a hostage. The older man, probably in his late fifties, looked strong. He had a weathered face with an evil glint in his eyes. D’Artagnan suspected the man might have been responsible for the attacks the first time around and was now using the younger men to help carry them out again. D’Artagnan wondered if they would be given any answers or if they were to be killed by the men._ _

__The older man hoisted Aramis, who was still unconscious, over his shoulder and led the way into the large house. The younger men indicated for them to follow. The man carrying Aramis entered the house and headed across a large hallway. The house was dimly lit. It did not look lived in. The area they were in was falling out of favour with the wealthy. The place had probably been empty for a while. D’Artagnan doubted the attackers owned the property._ _

__‘Search them both,’ said the older man as he pulled a plain door open in the corner of the hallway._ _

__The tatty man raised two guns, aimed at them both. D’Artagnan held his hands out to show he had no weapon. They both remained still as they were searched. D’Artagnan was sure he heard Athos sigh with annoyance as the slim dagger hidden in his boot was found. It had been no use to them in the carriage but would have been better than nothing. Their cloaks were taken off them. They were pushed towards the doorway the older man had disappeared through._ _

__‘What are you going to do with us?’ asked Athos, with an uninterested tone._ _

__The tatty man chuckled, ‘wait for the last ship to leave,’ he said._ _

__He did not elaborate. D’Artagnan looked at Athos who appeared as confused as he was._ _

__‘Because then you can drown, like the rats you are,’ continued the younger man._ _

__They were shoved towards the door and forced ahead of the armed men. Athos stumbled a couple of times, the assault he had suffered mere hours earlier, causing him issues. D’Artagnan had to steady Athos a few times._ _

__‘If you get a chance to run,’ whispered Athos, ‘go. Get help for us.’_ _

__Reluctantly, d’Artagnan nodded. He hated the idea of leaving his friends, but he was the only one of them capable of making a run for safety._ _

__They found themselves in a large cellar. The older man was leaning over Aramis, who was lying on the floor. The man was going through the injured Musketeer’s pockets and pulling off his empty weapons belts._ _

__‘What do you want with us?’ said Athos._ _

__The man looked up at him, ‘it’s only you that we wanted,’ he said. ‘But your young friend there and this one,’ he indicated d’Artagnan and Aramis, ‘were in the wrong place at the wrong time.’_ _

__D’Artagnan scowled at the man, ‘what do you want with Athos?’_ _

__‘You were clever enough to pull Claude’s scarf off. You saw his face. He told me you and… what was his name, Porthos, talked to him earlier.’_ _

__The man glared at Claude who looked at the ground._ _

__‘If that imbecile had done his job when he attacked you earlier… When he was supposed to have killed you… you wouldn’t now be about to die with your two friends here.’_ _

__Claude took a step forward, ‘I told you I wouldn’t be able to take on two Musketeers.’_ _

__The young man laughed, causing Claude to round on him._ _

__‘If you’d not let yourself get kicked by that one that fought back you could have helped-’_ _

__The young man unconsciously rubbed at his chest. Athos remembered hearing about one of the victims being knocked unconscious after he fought back against his attacker._ _

__‘Enough,’ said the older man, ‘Claude, Pierre, get your things together. We’ve only got a couple of hours.’_ _

__‘What are you going to do?’ asked Athos._ _

__‘We told you, drown you,’ said Pierre with a smirk._ _

__‘What good will that do, why not just shoot us?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__The older man took a step closer, ‘it’s the way we’re going to drown you that’s important. We’re going to make it look like the elusive Devilman got the three of you. It will sow more fear into the locals and will hopefully make the nosy upper classes stay away.’_ _

__Athos shook his head, not understanding, ‘don’t you want rich people coming through here… so that you can rob them?’_ _

__The older man smirked, ‘me and the lads here,’ he said. ‘We’re going to catch the Devilman soon. Then we’re going to start protecting the locals. And they’re going to pay for it.’_ _

__‘You’re tricking them? Making them think something is haunting their streets. Then you’re going to save them, and they will be grateful and keep you on as some sort of paid saviour.’_ _

__All three men nodded. Claude grinned for a few seconds before being cuffed around the head by the older man and shooed out of the room. Claude cowered a little as he scurried off. The three may have been working together, but there was a distinct pecking order, and Claude was very much at the bottom of it._ _

__They watched as the door was closed and bolted. D'Artagnan walked up to the door and pulled on the handle for a few seconds. He turned back to Athos who had eased himself to his knees by Aramis. Athos was struggling with his assortment of injuries. D'Artagnan realised his friend was probably running out of strength._ _

__'Aramis?'_ _

__Athos shook his head._ _

__'I cannot find any other injuries,' replied Athos. 'But he is not showing any signs of waking.'_ _

__D’Artagnan sighed. He started to methodically check the cells for any weakness they could exploit or any way they could escape. But with one man unconscious and another injured, the chances were slim for all three of them getting away. Once he had concluded they would not be getting out of the room, he returned to Athos._ _

__'Let me check the dressings on your arm.'_ _

__Athos did as he was asked. D'Artagnan was pleased to see that despite the rough treatment, his friend's wounds were not bleeding. None of the stitches had been pulled._ _

__They settled on the floor by Aramis. D'Artagnan watched the steady rise and full of his friend's chest._ _

__'I can't believe we didn't work out there was more than one man working together,' said d’Artagnan. 'It's so obvious, how else could they have been disappearing and reappearing.'_ _

__Athos looked up at him, 'with hindsight it is obvious,’ he said. ‘They were working in tandem. One man attacking with another waiting to perpetuate the growing myth that the Devil Man could appear as he pleased.’_ _

__‘I wonder if the older man was responsible for the attacks thirty years ago,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘He’s the right age.’_ _

__‘Quite possibly,’ mused Athos who had gone back to watching Aramis._ _

__Footsteps outside the door brought the two men to alertness. Athos indicated to d’Artagnan to wait by the door._ _

__‘I will distract them,’ said Athos, ‘make a run for it.’_ _

__D’Artagnan nodded reluctantly, he could see it was their only hope, but he did not like the idea of leaving Athos and Aramis behind._ _

__The door swung open. Pierre stepped into the room. Athos leaned over Aramis, pretending he was checking if their friend was still alive. The move was enough to make Pierre take a couple of steps into the room without looking for the other captive man first. D’Artagnan shoved Pierre further into the room. He was aware of Athos moving towards Pierre._ _

__D’Artagnan took his chance. He charged up the steps leading back to the hallway. The door at the top stood open. He paused at the door for a second. He could hear Athos and Pierre scuffling in the cellar. He knew it would only be a matter of seconds before Pierre got the better of Athos or managed to shout out a warning that one of the captives was escaping._ _

__He moved cautiously out into the hallway. He froze by one of the open doors as he heard a tersely spoken conversation within what would have been one of the large houses' reception rooms._ _

__‘But Jacques, you know I’m not as strong as you,’ Claude was saying, his voice a whine, ‘I can’t strangle people.’_ _

__The older man responded, ‘you’re useless, that’s what you are. You’re lucky I still had the claw weapon.’_ _

__There was a pause before Claude spoke again, ‘why did you hurt me?’_ _

__‘Because it needed to look genuine. If you’d gone to talk to them without any marks on your neck, they wouldn’t have believed you… And then you went and accused Porthos of having seen the Devilman before. You’re the one who’s put us in this position. I’m not ready to change our tactic yet… but we need to get rid of them… all four of them…’_ _

__D’Artagnan risked looking into the room. The older man, Jacques, was standing with his back to the door. Now that he was not wearing the cloak d’Artagnan could see he was a well-built man. It was no wonder he had been able to overpower some of the fitter victims of the attacks._ _

__Claude was standing by a side table, his finger resting on one of the blades of what must have been the claw weapon. It was, as they had guessed, an adapted glove. Thin blades were attached to the knuckles of the glove. There were joints on the blades, d’Artagnan wondered if they could be locked in place and then bent back when the wearer did not need them as a weapon. The blades were shining in the light of the small fire in the large room._ _

__The glass-covered cloaks were lying over the back of a dusty couch. An assortment of other weapons lay across the couch._ _

__‘Just kill them then. You don’t need to use the judgement box… One of them’s already unconscious; the other one is injured. Shoot them all and be done with it.’_ _

__D’Artagnan wondered what the ‘judgement box’ was. He guessed it was something to do with Jacques' plan to make their Devil creature a greater threat. The three men would then be seen as heroes when they defeated it._ _

__The inevitable yell from the cellar caused the two men to look towards the door. D’Artagnan made a run for the main door. The two men were quicker. As he pulled at the heavy door he was grabbed by the older man. D’Artagnan kicked back, catching the man on the shin. Jacques did not react to the assault. He pulled d’Artagnan around and spun him to the ground. Claude stepped in and kicked him before he could get his feet under him. The air knocked out of him d’Artagnan took longer than he would have liked to orientate himself. When he looked up, he was staring at the dangerous end of a gun being wielded by Pierre._ _

__‘Your friend tried very hard to stop me shouting,’ said Pierre with a sneer, ‘but after his last encounter with us he’s not at his best.’_ _

__Jacques stepped forward and hauled d’Artagnan to his feet. D’Artagnan tried to shrug the man off but found himself being held firmly. Jacques propelled him towards the open door of the cellar._ _

__‘Back to your friends,’ he said as he shoved d’Artagnan at the top of the stone steps._ _

__D’Artagnan wildly grabbed at the wooden rail that ran along the wall. He managed to control his fall enough to prevent going headfirst down the steps. He was unable to stop himself from landing hard on the steps. The corner of each step dug into him painfully. He knew he would be bruised from the brief fight and the consequent fall. He wondered if he was now in as bad a state as both his friends._ _

__What little chance of getting away from the three men had diminished with d’Artagnan’s re-capture._ _

__MMMM_ _


	7. Chapter 7

Porthos ran towards the carriage, but he was too late. He reached the end of the road and looked in the direction the carriage had gone. There was no sign of it. He had no idea which way it had turned. 

He should have been quicker; he should have got past the two men that had tried to rob him faster. 

He had failed his brothers. For the second time that day.

Porthos stared at the empty street for a few seconds trying to make sense of what had happened. 

There were three attackers. He thought back to the descriptions they had heard from the victims. Some of them were punched or strangled whilst others were sliced with the claw-like weapon. The differing methods of the attacks made sense if more than one man was doing the attacking. It also explained the way the Devil Man could disappear and reappear. The streets of Paris had a myriad of places that a grown man could hide. Once one had slipped away the second man could appear as if from a different place.

Porthos shook his head, annoyed that they had not worked out there was more than one attacker. 

He turned back towards the garrison before pausing and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out the tatty scarf he had found earlier. If he could not follow the carriage, he might be able to find where the men were hiding. He changed direction and headed toward his old home. The Court of Miracles might yet yield some further help. 

He contemplated pulling off his pauldron and trying to enter the court as a man and not a soldier. But he knew that he would be recognised, nonetheless. Instead, Porthos pulled himself straight. He pushed the fear of the unknown away. He knew there was no Devil Man. He now knew the attacker was only a trio of men. And he knew they were not at large at that moment. 

The only people he needed to be wary of were the more militant residents of the Court. And Porthos was sure he could deal with any of them he came across. 

The familiar feelings assailed him as he crossed the invisible border. He knew where he needed to go. He remembered where Flea held her court. 

A few scrawny men scuttled away from him as he walked towards the kingdom within a kingdom's throne room. A couple of armed men stepped into his path. The localised militia was well armed, but they did not scare Porthos. He stopped in front of them. 

‘You know me,’ he said. ‘You know I’m not a threat here.’

The two men glanced at one another before looking back at him. 

‘You’re not welcome,’ said one of the men whose face bore the scars of years of fighting and struggling to stay alive. 

‘I only want to speak to Flea. You know we’re trying to deal with the Devil Man that’s attacking people. I can get it sorted, but I need to talk to her first.’

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds before one nodded to the other. They stepped apart and gestured for Porthos to continue. He walked past them without a second glance. 

He knew word would get around that he was there. Flea would be expecting him. The few times he had met with her since he had been rescued by the people of the court were stilted affairs. At first, he had got the impression she had wanted to rekindle their relationship. But as she had settled into her role of Queen of the Court, Porthos had known there was no longer any place for him. The usual pecking order of women following the men did not always apply in the Court of Miracles. The women were often the ones that ruled. The matriarchs that were left behind when the men were killed or simply walked away were all formidable women. More than a match for any man. 

Porthos stepped into one of the better buildings. A couple of older men were sitting in the hallway watching him. Guns within reach. They were the ones that led the Courts army. Porthos knew them both from his days as a member of the militia. He nodded a greeting to the pair who chose not to acknowledge him. Few people wanted him there. Porthos knew his presence was only tolerated because of his relationship with Flea, and the fact that he had been instrumental in saving the Court from destruction. 

He pushed aside a dark blue sheet that acted as a doorway to the main room of the Court’s own Palace. 

Flea, dressed in a simple faded blue dress, was sitting at a large table. A bottle and two glasses in front of her. A second chair by her side had already been pulled out ready for her visitor. 

She gestured to the chair with a wave of her small hand. Porthos smiled as he walked to the chair. He contemplated bowing before the Queen of the Court but knew the time was not right for frivolities. He was there for information. He did not have the time for anything else. 

‘I know why you’re here,’ said Flea.

Porthos took the offered seat. He did not reach for the wine. He leaned forward looking his former lover in the eyes. 

‘Then help me,’ he said. ‘Help me put a stop to these men that are terrorising your people.’

‘Men?’

Porthos nodded. He explained what he had seen as his friends were taken by the attackers. He was careful to avoid admitting that he had failed his friends and was responsible for their current predicament. Porthos could tell Flea knew he was not telling her everything, but she chose not to question him further. 

‘I will make some inquiries. The man you described. I know who you mean. He’s not been here long. I was having him watched, but he was elusive, he would disappear for a few days at a time. Then he turned up with bruises on his neck. But there was something about his description of the attack on him that seemed odd. And if what you say about him is true, I can understand why now.’

‘He was made to look like he’d been attacked,’ said Porthos with a sigh and a shake of his head. ‘What I need to know is where the carriage came from. If I know where they are hiding, I can get this sorted out.’

Flea took a sip of the wine and looked at Porthos over the rim of the glass. Porthos felt as though she was interrogating his soul with her gaze. Searching to see if he was a threat to her crown.

‘If you help and the information you get is what helps us to end this,’ said Porthos, ‘it will only make your status as the leader more solid.’

Flea let the corner of her mouth quirk in a half-smile, ‘my status of leader is solid enough already, thank you,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm. ‘But I want to see that the people of the Court are safe.’

She glanced over her shoulder. Porthos could see a figure lurking in the shadows. 

‘Find out where that carriage is,’ she said to the figure. ‘You heard the description of the coat of arms on the door; three fleurs-de-lis on a blue background with a red border.’

The figure disappeared from view. 

‘He will not be long. Whilst we wait you will enjoy a glass of wine with me and you will tell me, honestly, why all this has bothered you so much.’

Porthos could not help scowling a little at the remark from Flea. She smiled again.

‘When you and Athos left here you were followed. I heard that you did nothing to stop your friend being attacked…’

Porthos sighed, the constant reminders of his failures in the last few hours were only making him feel worse. 

MMMM

Athos wanted to go to his brother who was bodily thrown back into the cellar. But Pierre had his gun trained on Aramis, his finger pressed on the trigger. The smallest movement would be enough for the man to fire the gun. The ball would hit Aramis, no doubt causing an injury from which he would not survive. Athos remained still, watching as d’Artagnan tried to get away from the toe of the older man’s boot as he pushed him over.

‘I’m sorry, Jacques,’ said Pierre. ‘They tricked me. I won’t let it happen again.’

‘You won’t,’ replied the older man. ‘And besides, they won’t get the chance to try it again as it’s almost time.’

Jacques nodded towards the door. Pierre backed out of the room with Jacques closing the door as he stepped out after him. Athos had moved to d’Artagnan’s side before the bolt was pushed across. 

‘Sorry,’ said d’Artagnan as he pushed himself up to sit, wincing as he did so.

Athos could not see any obvious injuries to his friend, but he had heard him being thrown down the steps. D’Artagnan was likely to be covered in bruises. He was lucky not to have been knocked out or to have broken a bone. 

‘I got to the door, but they were too quick for me… Athos, your hand.’

Athos glanced down at his right hand. As soon as he looked at the torn stitch, he felt the pain. His brief scuffle with Pierre had left him bleeding again. D’Artagnan reached up to Athos’ neck and pulled his scarf loose, before wrapping it around the wound.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to escape on my own now, even if I got another chance,’ said d’Artagnan with a wry smile. 

‘Our situation could be better,’ said Athos with a sigh.

‘Who hit me?’

They both looked at Aramis who was blinking and rubbing at his eyes. Athos put himself into his friend’s vision. He was aware of d’Artagnan shuffling across the floor to join them. Aramis looked at each of them, his eyes losing focus several times. 

‘What’s the last thing you remember?’ asked d’Artagnan.

Aramis let out a long slow breath, his eyes closed again for a few seconds. Athos wondered if he had passed out. 

He opened his eyes again and looked at Athos, ‘stitching your arm.’

Athos raised his eyebrows, ‘you have a little catching up to do. Can you sit up?’

Aramis blinked a few more times, ‘if I sit up will the room stop spinning?’

‘Probably not,’ said d’Artagnan.

‘Will I need to stand up any time soon? Are we escaping?’

Athos shook his head, ‘we are not escaping at the moment.’

Aramis closed his eyes again, ‘in which case I’d rather stay where I am… and unless it’s essential I know what’s going on I’d prefer not to have to try to listen and concentrate.’

‘Aramis?’ said d’Artagnan when their friend went quiet again.

Athos looked at d’Artagnan, ‘when I said our situation could be better,’ he said, ‘I should also have added that it could be worse.’

Despite being pleased Aramis had come around, however briefly, they now knew they could not rely on him in a fight. The head injury their friend had suffered was affecting him badly. What Aramis needed was rest. Athos realised all three of them needed rest. Something none of them was going to get any time soon. 

MMMM

Porthos suspected Flea had kept him waiting out of some need to dominate him. To remind him that he had his chance to be the leader there but turned his back on his old home. But now he had the information. For a few seconds he had contemplated going straight to the address where the old carriage had been seen, but Porthos was determined not to let his brothers down again. 

He knew that he was capable of taking on three men at once. But what if they got the better of him. They had managed to take Athos, Aramis and d’Artagnan by surprise. If he got himself killed by the three men, he would have failed his brothers again. 

Porthos was not going to do that. 

Instead, he ran back to the garrison rushing straight up to the Captain’s room. He was not surprised to see light flickering through the gap at the bottom of the door. Treville had not retired to bed, despite the lateness of the hour. 

Porthos knocked at the door, pushing it open when he heard the Captain’s voice from within.

‘Porthos. Did you find them?’

The Captain had been sitting at his desk, as soon as he took in Porthos’ harried expression he got to his feet and started to check his weapons. 

‘What happened?’

Porthos wasted no time, he explained, succinctly, what he had seen and what he had found out. He only gave the details that mattered. The time for a more detailed explanation would be later, once his brothers were safe. Treville did not interrupt him as he spoke. As they descended the stairs he called out to a group of men returning from their late guard duty. Porthos was pleased to see Barbotin in their number. With Aramis injured they would probably need the medics help. 

‘We will explain on the way,’ said Treville as he gestured for them to follow him and Porthos. 

MMMM

They approached the house cautiously. Porthos took the lead. Treville expected nothing less. His Musketeer had been blaming himself for every misfortune his friends had encountered that day. As though he were responsible for the vicious attacks that had been taking place. It had upset the Musketeer Captain when he had felt obliged to relieve Porthos of his duty. But Porthos was not thinking straight; he had been preoccupied with what was going on, and letting it distract him.

But not now. Now Porthos understood what was happening. Now he had an enemy he could fight. Three enemies to be precise. They had known the mystery figure, the Devil Man, was nothing of the sort, but they had not initially known who it was. Now they did, and Porthos was a man on a mission. 

Porthos indicated for the group to stop. They hid in the shadows and observed the big, seemingly abandoned house. The flicker of light could be seen in a couple of the ground floor windows. From where they were watching they could see the old carriage in the inner courtyard. The doors of the carriage were shut, wooden slats had been used to secure the doors so that they could not be opened from the inside. 

The horses that were waiting to pull the carriage looked in good health. Treville wondered if they had been stolen. He doubted the villainous men responsible for the robberies would spend the time required to keep such horses and care for them. 

They could make out three men on the carriage. Two at the front and one at the back. The men wore dark cloaks. The driver urged the horses on. As the carriage sped past, the watching Musketeers got a glimpse of the inside. Treville was shocked when he saw his missing men. None looked in the best of health. He was not sure if they had seen him. It occurred to him that none of them would know that their capture had been seen. They would be thinking they would not be missed until well into the next day. 

Porthos stepped out of their hiding place. He was about to yell but Treville stopped him.

'If we alert them to our presence they might go to ground and be harder to find.'

Porthos nodded, 'follow as best we can.'

They set off after the carriage, hoping they could work out where it was heading before they lost it.

MMMM


	8. Chapter 8

_A few minutes earlier… ___

__Athos and d’Artagnan managed to help Aramis over to the wall of the cellar. It was an inelegant affair but the three of them were more comfortable. Aramis had come around a few times, each time he was able to remain awake for longer._ _

__Athos took stock of their assortment of injuries. He was still suffering from his head injury, although the headache had almost faded away. His hand and arm ached where he had been pushed about by their captors. He knew he was lucky only one of the stitches pulled, although the fact that it was on his hand was unfortunate._ _

__Aramis was unfocused and would struggle to move at speed or do anything that required any amount of coordination. And d’Artagnan was finding bruises across his body. He had managed to collect some nasty cuts and grazes as well during his brief foiled escape attempt._ _

__Between the three of them, Athos doubted they could cobble together a fit man._ _

__D’Artagnan was talking to Aramis, trying to keep him awake and with some semblance of alertness._ _

__The door was pushed open by Jacques. Claude and Pierre were behind him. They were all armed._ _

__‘Get up,’ said Jacques using his gun to underline his demand. ‘And if that one don’t get up with you I’ll shoot him now.’_ _

__Jacque aimed his gun at Aramis who was already trying to get to his feet. Athos pulled Aramis up to stand, steadying him. In a reversal of their roles mere hours before Athos slipped his arm around Aramis’ waist and helped him to walk from the cellar._ _

__They were forced up the stairs and across the hall towards the open door. The tatty carriage was still standing in the courtyard, its door open._ _

__‘Quicker,’ grumbled Jacques from behind them._ _

__Both Athos and Aramis looked around when they heard d’Artagnan let out a grunt as he tripped to the floor. He managed to scramble up and glare at Pierre who smirked. Athos guessed the young man had pushed d’Artagnan who was not steady, causing him to crash to the floor, no doubt aggravating his already abused body._ _

__Knowing that none of them would get five feet if they tried to run, they climbed back into the carriage. Athos scowled at Jacques as he closed the door._ _

__The three Musketeers looked at each other as the carriage moved off._ _

__‘Do you have any idea where they’re taking us?’ asked Aramis who was enjoying a few moments of lucidity._ _

__‘They mentioned drowning us a couple of times,’ said d’Artagnan as they felt the carriage lurch around a corner and pick up a bit of speed._ _

__Athos looked through the small window hoping to catch a glimpse of where they were heading. He thought he saw someone watching them, but the carriage was moving too fast for him to communicate with anyone outside._ _

__‘They also said they needed to wait for the time to be right,’ remarked Athos as he continued to watch the route they were taking._ _

__‘Somewhere that’s busy a lot of the time perhaps?’ suggested Aramis._ _

__‘The dock,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘Although the dock is rarely quiet.’_ _

__‘If they know the times the ships are coming and going, they could be working around that.’_ _

__He looked upwards catching a glimpse of the lightening sky._ _

__‘It will be quiet now but will become busier in the next couple of hours.’_ _

__Aramis huffed out a laugh, ‘they want our bodies to still be fresh when they’re found,’ he said._ _

__MMMM_ _

__Porthos and Treville ran after the carriage, they needed to keep it in sight for as long as possible. Porthos could hear the other men behind him keeping pace. Ahead of them, the carriage turned to the right._ _

__‘Through here,’ said Marc, ‘we can head them off.’_ _

__The group turned off the main road and threaded their way through the narrow alleyways. They knew they would not encounter many people and those that were still on the streets want to keep themselves to the shadows._ _

__They spilt back onto the main road in time to see the old carriage rounding a left-hand bend and going out of sight. Despite their best efforts, by the time they reached the bend in the road, the carriage had turned out of sight again._ _

__‘We split up,’ said Treville. ‘If you think you can liberate them, do it. But do not risk your own lives. Observe and send a runner back to the garrison for reinforcements. Porthos and I will head towards the river, you three try in the other direction.’_ _

__Barbotin, Marc, and Luc nodded before making their way towards the poorer area of the city. Treville turned back to Porthos and indicated for him to lead the way._ _

__Porthos moved off at pace. He knew he could not run himself to exhaustion, but the need to find his captured brothers pulled him into a run. He was angry at what had happened. Angry with himself for not being quick enough to prevent it from happening. Angry that he had not helped Athos when he was attacked. If he had not frozen, Athos would not have been left vulnerable later in the day leading to the attack that had resulted in three of Porthos’ friend’s lives being in danger._ _

__But most of all Porthos was angry with the men that were responsible for all the attacks. The men that had toyed with many people’s lives for their gain._ _

__Porthos would stop at nothing to save his brothers._ _

__MMMM_ _

__The stark reality of their situation weighed heavily on them all. They were all injured to varying degrees, none of them would be able to fight or run with any level of skill. No one knew they had been taken captive and, in all likelihood, no one would see them meet their demise._ _

__Athos could see a few of the large storage buildings that lined the river where the larger ships docked. The area would become busy during the day. A body would be found quickly and seen by a lot of people. If Jacques wanted to make a statement, he had picked the right place to make it._ _

__The carriage stopped._ _

__‘We won’t go easily,’ said d’Artagnan._ _

__Athos nodded, ‘I am sure we can make it difficult for them.’_ _

__He glanced at Aramis who was struggling to focus again but managed a nod._ _

__The door was pulled open. They were faced with a smirking Claude who indicated for them to get out. They took their time; they were in no hurry to help their captors._ _

__Claude became annoyed as he watched d’Artagnan slowly easing himself down the step. He reached out to pull the Musketeer the rest of the way. D’Artagnan took the opportunity to punch Claude who stumbled back a few paces. Before d’Artagnan could get any further, Pierre, who had been standing at the side of the door, grabbed him and tripped him to the floor._ _

__‘Try that again and I will not simply kill you all, I will make you suffer. I’ll break bones, I’ll cut bits off you, I’ll smash you to a pulp.’_ _

__Jacques crouched by d’Artagnan and pushed the barrel of his gun into his back, pinning him to the ground for several seconds before moving away. Athos was allowed to step forward and help d’Artagnan to his feet._ _

__‘Your friend needs help again,’ said Pierre with a nod towards Aramis, who was leaning against the carriage with his eyes closed._ _

__Athos and d’Artagnan returned to their friend’s side. Athos was not sure which of them needed the most help. Aramis was struggling to coordinate his limbs, and d'Artagnan was limping after his latest encounter with Pierre. Athos was even prepared to admit that his head injury was causing him issues again. He knew he was not suffering as much as Aramis, but the headache had returned and his arm was radiating pain every time he moved it._ _

__They were ushered towards the river. Athos wondered if they were going to be pushed in. The water would be cold and, although they were all strong swimmers, there were currents that he doubted they could contend with, particularly with their injuries restricting them._ _

__A crane, set up to take heavy loads from the ships, had been swung towards the dock. Underneath the pulley was what looked like a crate covered with a canvas. Jacque holstered his gun and started to pull the canvas off. A large cage was revealed. The wooden structure was covered in carvings. The symbols were nothing that Athos recognised. He glanced at Aramis who was peering at the carvings._ _

__‘Do you recognise them?’ asked Athos quietly._ _

__Aramis glanced at him before wavering for a few seconds, the act of moving his head had thrown off his balance._ _

__‘Yes,’ Aramis finally replied, ‘I think they’re demonic. I came across some a few years ago.’_ _

__Athos wondered what the circumstances were that would cause his friend to be involved with symbols that represented demons._ _

__‘You’re ailing friend is correct,’ said Jacques. ‘This will be your coffin. The people will see that you were lured into the Judgement cage and could not escape. The fear will grow, and then we will swoop in and do away with the Devilman.’_ _

__‘You’re deranged,’ said d’Artagnan. 'And we're not just going to get in there.'_ _

__Pierre stepped up to Athos and Aramis. He grabbed Athos' arm over the injury and squeezed. Athos could not help crying out in pain as his knees buckled. Aramis was forced to hold on to Athos. They both crumpled to the ground. Athos was aware of d’Artagnan remonstrating with the men, but at that moment he could not do anything other than ride out the pain. Aramis was talking to him, his arm over his shoulder trying to keep him from collapsing completely._ _

__‘-to continue to inflict pain,’ Jacques was saying, ‘or do you want to get in there?’_ _

__It still took Athos several more seconds to get his senses back. He opened his eyes to find himself knelt on the ground, leaning forward, his right arm cradled in his left. He felt tears in his eyes where the pain had got the better of him. Aramis was trying to pull him to sit upright._ _

__D’Artagnan was swearing at the men. Athos managed to look up in time to see his friend forced into the cage. He landed hard on the wooden floor and took a few seconds to sit himself up._ _

__Aramis was pulled off him and similarly pushed towards the cage. Aramis made no effort to get up, causing d’Artagnan to look at him with concern._ _

__Athos tried to pull himself to his feet but was not given the chance. Pierre and Claude grabbed him roughly and propelled him forward. D’Artagnan managed to prevent him from landing too hard._ _

__The three Musketeers watched with varying levels of alertness as the door of the cage was closed. A key was pushed into a large padlock and turned. Athos could see more of the Demonic markings on the lock. Jacques crouched in front of them looking them over._ _

__‘From the state of you, I don’t think you’ll last long even if we didn’t kill you.’_ _

__Athos glared at the man, ‘you won’t get away with this,’ he said. ‘You will be found and dealt with.’_ _

__Jacques laughed and got to his feet, pushed the key into his pocket, and turned away from the captured men to talk to Pierre and Claude._ _

__Athos looked at d’Artagnan and Aramis. D’Artagnan helped Aramis to lean against the side of the cage; his friend had paled considerably. The rough handling had not helped Aramis in any way. It was clear he was in a lot of pain as he stared into the middle distance, unable to focus. D’Artagnan was trying to get himself into a position that did not cause pain to his myriad of bruises. As he moved his leg, he hissed with pain and reached towards his ankle._ _

__‘We’re not getting out of this,’ murmured d’Artagnan. ‘How do we get out of this?’_ _

__He had rarely seen d’Artagnan adopting a defeatist attitude, but on this occasion, Athos was inclined to agree with his brother._ _

__Athos turned his attention back to the men on the dock. Pierre and Claude were busy turning the crank that would work the crane. Ropes had been attached to rings at each corner of the top of the cage. As the crank was turned the slack on the ropes was taken in until the cage shifted slightly. Jacques stepped forward but kept himself out of reach of Athos if he were to try to grab him through the bars of the cage. Jacques guided the cage over the edge of the dock as Pierre and Claude moved the pulley around. Within a few seconds, the cage with the three captured Musketeers was dangling over the river. Athos could feel the odd splash of water as the river rushed underneath them._ _

__‘And now we come to the best part, my friends,’ sneered Jacques as he looked through the bars. ‘The bit I did not tell you about. I’m going to give you a chance to save yourselves. And when you don’t it will only add to the myth of the Devilman. The Devilman will have toyed with the King’s Musketeers but still killed them.’_ _

__As Jacques spoke, Athos watched Claude untying the rope that was holding the cage above the water. Pierre was keeping the crank in place with a lot of effort. Claude dragged the rope towards the cage. Jacques took it and held it out towards Athos._ _

__‘I suggest you get a good grip,’ he said. ‘You never know, you may be able to hold it until morning, and some of the dockworkers can rescue you.’_ _

__Both Athos and d’Artagnan scrambled to reach through the bars to grab the rope. Pierre let go of the crank. Athos and d’Artagnan were left holding the rope that was hooked around the crane's pulley above them. If they let go of the rope the cage, with them inside it, would fall into the waters of the Seine below._ _

__‘You’re mad,’ said d’Artagnan as he managed to wrap the rope around his hand._ _

__Athos screwed his eyes shut as he felt the pull on the wound on his hand. He glanced behind him. Aramis was trying to help them, but his movements were slow and uncoordinated again, all he was doing was causing the cage to rock._ _

__‘Aramis stay still,’ said d’Artagnan, who had noticed their friend as well._ _

__Aramis did as he was asked, he watched them for a few seconds before his eyes closed and his head lolled to the side._ _

__D’Artagnan looked at Athos for a few seconds._ _

__‘I am alright for now,’ Athos said in answer to the unasked question, ‘but we will not be able to hold this for long… not with just the two of us.’_ _

__Athos glanced back at Aramis again, wondering if their friend would come around again and be a little more coordinated._ _

__Jacques and the younger men were watching them. Pierre was smirking, Claude looked a little green and uncomfortable at what he was witnessing._ _

__‘We need to go,’ said Pierre after a few seconds, ‘we’ve still got to deal with Porthos.’_ _

__Jacques nodded, ‘I would have liked to watch, but we can’t have Porthos working out he knows you, can we Claude?’_ _

__Claude looked at Jacques for a few seconds before nodding reluctantly._ _

__The three men walked off._ _

__Athos watched them go, wondering if Porthos would have more luck dealing with the three men than they had._ _

__He returned his attention to the rope as he felt it slip through his hands a few inches, sending them ever closer to their watery deaths._ _

__MMMM_ _


	9. Chapter 9

Aramis wanted to help he knew his help was needed. Athos and d’Artagnan were going to struggle to keep hold of the rope. Their lifeline. If the rope slipped through their fingers the cage would plunge into the icy depths of the Seine. With them in it.

But Aramis knew his limitations. The injury he had received had left him struggling to coordinate his limbs and to concentrate. It felt as though thousands of tiny hammers were hitting his head. There were moments when he could focus. He had managed to stop Athos collapsing completely when Jacques had grabbed his injured arm. But all too soon that moment of clarity was replaced by blurred vision and a wish to simply close his eyes and block everything out. 

He watched as Athos screwed his eyes closed in pain. The wound on his hand was bleeding, the stitches ripped open by the pressure of tightly holding the rope. D’Artagnan was not in much better shape. He had been moving awkwardly since his encounters with their captors. Aramis guessed d’Artagnan had hurt his ankle from his reactions. Not that any of them were in a position to need to walk. 

They were trapped in a cage, dangling over the Seine, and the only thing preventing them falling was the strength that Athos and d’Artagnan could muster as they clung to the rope. 

Aramis shivered, he realised where he was sitting, slumped in the corner of the cage was damp. He looked down seeing water lapping over the edge. He blinked a couple of times and refocused on his brothers. It was obvious the rope was slipping; they had already dropped a few feet. Another couple of feet and the three of them would be soaked. The cold water would only add to their misery and make it harder to keep hold of the rope. 

Aramis forced himself to concentrate on moving. He eased himself forward a little. The cage shifted. D’Artagnan glanced back at him but did not speak. Aramis wondered if he could see an encouraging look in the other man’s eyes. D’Artagnan and Athos must have noticed they were level with the river. They must have felt the water beginning to soak into their breeches. 

Aramis decided he did not care how undignified it was to crawl on hands and knees a couple of feet across the cage to get to his brothers. He was breathing hard as he moved next to Athos. Athos had his head down, his knuckles, white from the effort, wrapped around the rope. D’Artagnan nodded towards the gap between his hands and Athos’. Aramis reached up and grasped the rope, holding it tightly adding his waning strength. 

He knew they would not last much longer. They were all exhausted. They were all injured. It was only a matter of time, perhaps only minutes, before one of them passed out. 

MMMM

Treville was only a few feet behind Porthos. They had continued in the direction they guessed the carriage had taken for a few minutes before finding themselves on the banks of the river. A few small boats had been pulled up onto the muddy beach. Some larger vessels were moored in the centre of the river. There were a couple of men wandering along the bank a few hundred yards away. One of the men was holding the other up. Treville suspected they had been frequenting a nearby tavern and were making their way home.

Porthos was breathing hard as he looked up and down the river. Treville could tell his Musketeer was wound up. He was still blaming himself for everything. Nothing short of a perfect outcome would placate him.

But they both know what the attackers were capable of. And the chances were they would be prepared to go further with three captive soldiers. It was unlikely the three captured men would escape without further injury. 

'There,' said Porthos, pointing to their left towards the paved loading area. 

Larger ships were able to moor alongside the stone-built wharf and offload using cranes worked by local labourers. 

Treville looked where Porthos was indicating. They could see a group of three men crowded around a crate. Two of the men were working the crank on a dockside crane. The crate was being lifted enough to swing over the river. As the crate moved Treville got a better look at it. He could not suppress a gasp. The crate was a sturdy looking cage. The three missing Musketeers were being held in the cage. 

As they watched, one of the men pushed the rope that was holding the cage up towards the trapped men. The cage was dangling over the river. If the Musketeers let go of the rope the cage, with them in it, would plunge into the Seine. They would not stand a chance. The water was deep, the men would drown.

Porthos took a few steps forward before Treville stopped him.

'No,' he said. 'They'll be shot. We must think tactically.'

Porthos nodded, 'you're right.'

He paused for a few moments and took in the scene.

'We can get closer. We should be able to take out the men.'

Treville allowed Porthos to lead them along the dockside. The early morning light cast enough shadows that they were able to get within a few yards of the crane. The distance was still a lot to cover if they were to help the trapped man, but it was the best they could do without revealing their position.

They could see the men talking to Athos and d’Artagnan, they appeared to be taunting the caged men. Aramis was leaning against the far corner of the cage. He looked as though he wanted to help but was struggling to focus. Athos and d’Artagnan were holding the rope, but Treville knew they would not have the strength to maintain the hold for long.

One of the men said something about killing Porthos before the three started to walk away. As the men disappeared Treville knew, if they were going to save the soldiers, they had to do it straight away. He was about to turn to Porthos and make a suggestion. But Porthos had other ideas. He had already started to rush forward.

As Porthos reached the cage and went to grab the rope Athos yelled at him to keep back. Porthos ignored his friend and grabbed the rope adding his strength. When all three of the trapped Musketeers started to urge Porthos to leave them Treville started to look around for some hidden danger they had not seen. 

But he was too late.

MMMM

D’Artagnan watched the three men walking away as he clung to the rope. The men had callously left them to their fate without even looking back. He felt the cold water of the Seine soaking into his breeches. He was already cold. Aramis was shivering next to him with his eyes screwed shut as he put all his remaining strength into holding the rope. A glance at Athos’ hands told d’Artagnan that he would not be able to help them for long. The stitches had ripped, blood was dripping to the floor of the cage, mixing with the water that was seeping across the wooden boards. 

It was only a matter of time before one by one they could not hold the rope any longer. Once one passed out or let go, when the pain became too much, the others would not be able to take the weight. 

D’Artagnan tried not to think what his final moments would be like. He had heard from people who had come close to drowning that it was painful and terrifying. He had never thought his end would come in such a way. He was a soldier. Death on the battlefield was what he should have been dealt with. Not a death by drowning, trapped in a cage with two of his best friends, and the knowledge that his other friend was going to be hunted down and killed as well. 

‘They’ve stopped,’ said Athos. 

D’Artagnan looked at Athos for a few seconds before realising he was looking in the direction that their captors had gone.

‘By that low wall… I can still see Claude’s cloak.’

Athos was correct. D’Artagnan wondered why the men had stopped. Had they decided they wanted to watch the demise of the Musketeers. 

‘Treville.’

Aramis had uttered the name between shaky breaths. 

Both d’Artagnan and Athos looked to their left along the stone-built bank. They could see the Captain crouched by a barrel, peering along the wharf. He was watching Porthos rush towards the cage.

D'Artagnan had not seen Porthos until that moment. Their friend was running towards the cage, his hand already reaching for the rope.

‘They’ve seen him,’ said Aramis with shock.

‘PORTHOS STOP!’ yelled Athos with urgency. 

Porthos did not heed the advice. He charged forward; his intention clear. He was going to grab the rope and aid their efforts to keep them above the waterline. But by doing so, he was exposing himself to the three men that were responsible for the horrific events of the previous few days. 

The cage jerked a little as Porthos pulled at the rope. It was obvious he realised he would not be able to pull them back towards the bank. Instead, he put all his effort into holding it still and stopping his friends from sinking to a dark, cold, death.

‘Leave us,’ said d’Artagnan as firmly as he could.

‘Porthos, they’re still here,’ Aramis managed to say before looking down and closing his eyes again. 

The move distracted d’Artagnan for several seconds. He watched Aramis waver, watched his grip loosen. But his friend managed to rally a little and clutch the rope tightly again. 

At the same time, Athos had been shouting at Porthos to get back to cover. But Porthos remained resolute. 

‘I ain’t leaving you,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Not abandoning you again.’

‘You didn’t abandon us before. Porthos. They’re still here. Get back.’

But Porthos did not move. 

D’Artagnan became aware of Treville standing up, leaving the safety of his cover, he took a few steps forward. The Captain looked confused; he looked around. D’Artagnan realised he had heard them shouting. He may not have heard what they were saying to Porthos, but he knew they were warning him off. 

A shot rang out, piercing through all the other sounds. 

A sickening silence fell on the dock for a few seconds. 

Porthos’ eyes had gone wide. 

D’Artagnan felt the rope slip through his hands a couple of inches as the added help from Porthos disappeared for a few seconds. 

Porthos had been shot.

D’Artagnan could not tell where he was hit, but it affected his ability to maintain his hold on the rope. And yet he did not let go; he did not retreat. Porthos remained where he was, stubbornly leaving himself in plain view of their attackers. An easy target for a second shot. 

A second shot which might prove fatal. 

Treville had dived for cover at the same time as the shot had been fired. He was searching for the man that had shot his Musketeer. 

Athos pulled himself up slightly, causing the cage to rock. 

‘By the corner,’ he said loudly, ‘three of them.’

Treville focused his attention on the corner of the nearest building, next to the low wall. He indicated he had seen the men. D’Artagnan could see Jacques reloading his gun and speaking to Pierre. Claude was peering around the corner; of the three men, Claude looked the most indecisive. 

Pierre shuffled along the low wall a little and peeped around the end. D’Artagnan could see him raising his gun and sighting along the barrel. 

‘Porthos, leave us,’ he said.

‘No. Help will come.’

‘Not in time. Porthos, please,’ d’Artagnan knew he sounded desperate, but he did not want to see his friend killed in front of him. 

Two gunshots within quick succession followed. All three trapped men looked towards Porthos who had cried out in pain. His right leg buckled a little at the same time as his grip on the rope lessoned again. A tell-tale spray of blood had spattered from Porthos’ thigh.

‘Porthos get away,’ ordered Athos.

‘Flesh wound,’ muttered Porthos. ‘I’m not going.’

‘You’ll be killed if you stay there,’ said Aramis. 

‘You’ll be killed if I don’t stay.’

Porthos looked at Aramis for a couple of seconds before looking at Athos and d’Artagnan in turn.

D’Artagnan knew they could not reason with their friend who seemed prepared to throw his life away in a vain attempt to preserve theirs. 

Another shot rang out, followed by a scream from the corner of the building where the men were. Claude had collapsed. He had fallen away from the cover of the low wall, completely exposed. Although the blood that was staining the grubby shirt, he was wearing told d’Artagnan that even though he was now an easy target for Treville he was not worth bothering about. 

Jacques glared at the man for a few seconds before looking towards Treville’s hiding place. He fired his gun, causing bits of wood to splinter off the barrel the Musketeer Captain was crouched behind. Treville was pinned down and could not do much more than try to keep Jacques and Pierre distracted from their murderous attempts on Porthos’ life. 

Porthos was shaking, not from the cold, but from the pain and shock, he was no doubt feeling after being shot twice. D’Artagnan got the impression there was no further point in trying to reason with his friend. Porthos was blinking he would probably not hear them begging him to get to safety anymore. 

Jacques stepped out from behind the wall and started to walk towards them. Treville tried to fire at him but was shot at by Pierre who was well hidden to be a worthwhile target. 

Jacques raised his gun, levelling it at the Porthos’ head. 

D’Artagnan wondered if his friend knew what was about to happen. Porthos looked down at the three of them again, his expression one of regret. 

Porthos knew what was about to happen. 

MMMM


	10. Chapter 10

Treville took a risk. He took a risk because he was not going to see four of his men die. He was going to do all that was in his power to save his men. If that meant putting himself in harm's way, as Porthos had done, that was what was going to happen.

He rose from his spot, sheltering behind the barrel. He knew he would only have one shot and he had to make it count. He levelled the gun at the man who was about to shoot Porthos and fired. He could not wait to see if the shot had found its mark. He was exposed and likely to already be in the sightlines of the other man who was trying to keep him pinned down. Treville threw himself behind the workings of the crane and pushed himself as far out of the way as he could. A shot embedded itself into the woodwork of the crane inches above his head. Treville scrambled up, pulling a dagger from his belt as he did so, the young man had made the mistake of stepping out from his hiding place. Perhaps he thought the Captain was going to cower out of sight and hope not to be attacked. Treville took a small amount of pleasure in the shocked look on the man’s face as he threw the dagger in his direction. His aim was true, the blade embedded itself into the man’s throat. The man dropped his gun and staggered back. 

But Treville did not care about the man anymore. He was already rushing to Porthos’ side. He went to grab the rope.

‘No,’ said d’Artagnan. ‘The crane, swing us back in.’

Treville looked back and realised d’Artagnan was right. His men could hold on for a few more seconds if they knew they were about to be saved. He rushed to the crane and took in the ropes and pulleys, trying to work out how the device operated. He reached out to push a lever. 

‘NO!’ 

He stopped, his hand resting on the lever.

‘That would release the other end of the rope,’ said Marc as he skidded to a halt by the Captain.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered having a conversation with the Marc about his father being a designer. Marc was always good with anything mechanical. Treville stepped back and allowed his Musketeer to release a brake that was holding the crane over the river. 

‘Captain,’ said Marc, indicating that he needed help to push the crane around on its pivot. 

He glanced across to the cage, unsurprised to find Luc and Barbotin there. Luc was adding his considerable strength to the rope that Porthos was still clinging to as Barbotin leaned over the dock guiding the cage back.

‘There’s a padlock,’ called Barbotin.

Treville looked at the three men that littered the wharf, he had no idea if they were dead or unconscious. 

‘One of them must have the key,’ he suggested. 

‘That one,’ d’Artagnan called.

Treville could see d’Artagnan nodding towards the man lying closest to the cage. Barbotin rifled through the man’s pockets for a few seconds before finding a large key. He pushed it into the lock and pulled the padlock off the cage door. At the same time, Marc was securing something on the crane and tapping Treville's arm. 

‘You can let go now, Captain,’ he said. 

Treville realised he had been so caught up in the rescue of his men and not wanting to inadvertently make it worse that he had not moved from the spot for a few seconds. Marc was already at Barbotin’s side pulling the door to the cage open and leaning forward to help the three men out. 

They had not been able to raise the level of the cage which was still dangling over the river. D’Artagnan was helping Athos to reach across, keeping his friend steady. He had one hand hooked around the waistband of Athos’ breeches and the other wrapped around the bars of the cage. Barbotin was leaning out and being held by the weapons belt by Marc. Treville stepped forward to aid his men, pulling Athos onto the wharf. Athos allowed himself to be lowered to the ground. He nodded that he would be fine as he applied pressure to the wound on his hand. Treville knew Athos would want them to concentrate on d’Artagnan and Aramis before tending to the injury. 

‘Take your time,’ Barbotin was saying.

Treville returned to the cage in time to see Aramis gingerly easing himself onto the dock. The usually graceful man was struggling to pull himself up. Barbotin and Marc were forced to haul him the last couple of feet leaving the cage to swing away from the dock. 

D’Artagnan grabbed onto the bars as the cage lurched back towards the stone wall of the dock. He tumbled backwards, hissing in pain. The cage rocked from side to side. D’Artagnan tried to hide the pain the movements were causing him. 

‘Sorry,’ called Marc. 

‘I forgive you,’ d’Artagnan managed to say as he pushed himself back towards the door of the cage.

Treville repeated his earlier move with Athos and helped d’Artagnan make it back to the safety of the wharf. 

He looked at his three Musketeer and let out a grateful sigh. They were bruised and battered and would not be fit for duty for a few days, but they were all alive. Each man looked exhausted and cold on top of their injuries. 

‘Porthos, the crane is secure, we've got them out. You can let go,’ said Luc.

Porthos was still clutching the rope firmly. Luc was trying to persuade him to let go; he had one arm around Porthos’ waist and was trying to ease his fingers away from the rope. Treville wondered if Porthos was even aware of what was going on around him. The troubled Musketeer had convinced himself all the negative events of the last couple of days were his fault. He did not seem to know it was over. 

'Porthos, we're safe. We're all alive,' said d'Artagnan. 'You can let go now.'

Porthos' knees buckled. It was as though he had been permitted to stand down. Luc took his weight and guided him to the ground. Barbotin was at his side.

'... they alright?'

'We're fine, Porthos.'

Treville knew none of his men was fine. Porthos had been shot. D’Artagnan appeared to have been beaten. Aramis was suffering from a head injury. And Athos was still recovering from his earlier encounter with their captors.

Barbotin looked between the four men for a few seconds. Treville could see the medic assessing their assortment of injuries. Barbotin shook his head with a sigh and looked at Marc. 

'Can you look at Athos' hand, the stitches are pulled. I'll see to Porthos.'

Luc was keeping a gently restraining arm around Porthos' shoulders. The injured man was not ready to accept that his friends were safe and that he needed attention more than them.

'Captain,' said Barbotin as he started to improvise field dressings for the injuries Porthos had sustained. 'Can you find us some transport?' 

Treville nodded. He was not above taking orders from his men when the time was right. He looked along the wharf spotting the old carriage that had been used to bring the captured men to the dock. He was about to walk towards it when Luc stopped him.

'Those two are still alive.'

The tall Musketeer indicated the first man that was shot and the man that Treville had shot to save Porthos. 

The older man was clutching at a wound on his shoulder in much the same place as Porthos had been hit. 

‘Get him restrained,’ ordered Treville.

The younger man did not look as though he would survive for long, his shirt was stained red around the wound. He had one handheld above him as though he was reaching out for something, or someone. 

Treville crouched by the man and grasped the hand finding the young man trying to squeeze his hand. He turned his head slightly and looked at Treville with unfocused eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice barely audible. 

Treville leaned closer.

‘They… they took me in… gave me… shelter… made me…’

The man’s eyes started to close. He took a couple of stuttered breaths before looking at Treville again for a few seconds and saying his last words.

‘There’s no Devil,’ he said. ‘Only men…’

MMMM

D’Artagnan watched the Captain crouched over Claude. The injured man was saying something to Treville before he went limp. The Captain brushed his hand over Claude’s face, closing his eyes. After a couple of seconds, Treville rose from the dead men and turned back. 

‘Is he dead?’ asked Barbotin who was still dealing with the wound Porthos had to his shoulder.

Treville nodded before looking at Jacques who had been restrained by Luc using a couple of belts. The leader of the men had come around and had to be forced to remain seated on the ground by Luc’s firm grip on his shoulder. 

‘How bad is his wound?’ asked Treville.

‘He’ll live,’ said Luc. ‘The ball went through, it’s a clean shot, not bleeding much.’

Jacques tried to pull away again but realised he was not going anywhere whilst he was surrounded by Musketeers and their angry Captain.

‘Aramis?’ asked Treville.

‘He’s passed out,’ said Athos who was resting his uninjured hand on Aramis’ shoulder as though he needed the contact to ensure Aramis did not fade away.

‘We need to get them back to the garrison,’ said Barbotin. ‘They’re all cold and Porthos and Athos need stitches.’

Treville nodded and walked towards the carriage. 

‘What’s happened here?’ 

They looked up to see a few men watching them, looking at the bodies and the cage dangling from the crane. 

Marc wandered across to talk to the dockworkers and enlist their help.

‘We were lucky,’ said d’Artagnan as he continued to watch the activity around them. 

Athos nodded, ‘although I do not feel particularly lucky at the moment,’ he said. ‘And we still have to deal with Porthos and his inevitable feelings of guilt.’

Porthos had not spoken since the rescue. He was sitting a few yards away from them, leaning against the crane staring into the distance. He did not seem to be aware of what was going on around him. D’Artagnan was reminded of the way he had behaved when Athos had been attacked the previous day. Although this time there was no longer any immediate danger.

‘Let’s get you up,’ said Treville who had returned after bringing the carriage as close as he could to them.

As the Captain pulled him up to stand, d'Artagnan put pressure on his right foot. He regretted the move. Waves of pain rushed through him. He found himself being supported by Treville who was looking at him with concern. 

‘Ankle,’ d’Artagnan managed to say. 

‘He was knocked to the ground by them a couple of times,’ Athos said, ‘and he was pushed down some stairs.’

D’Artagnan managed to hobble, with considerable help, to the carriage. One of the dockworkers appeared at the door of the carriage and handed him an empty sack to use as a blanket. He was soon joined by Athos who looked as bad as d’Artagnan felt. Aramis was carried into the carriage by Luc and Barbotin; he did not stir despite the manhandling. 

When Porthos was helped up the steps, he sat opposite d’Artagnan but did not look at any of them. 

‘Porthos,’ said Athos, ‘we may not be fit but we are alive, and we have you to thank for that.’

‘Barely alive,’ muttered Porthos. ‘Aramis is unconscious and neither of you is fit for anything.’

D’Artagnan glanced at Athos; they knew there would not be much they could do to help Porthos until he had accepted he was not at fault. 

MMMM

_Porthos was standing in the middle of the road. He watched the Devilman floating towards him. The many-eyed beast was joined by two more. They moved as one. Each raised their claws ready to strike him. ___

__‘Porthos, wake up. You’re dreaming again.’_ _

__Porthos forced his eyes open and focused on Aramis who was leaning over him. He tried to remember where he was and how he had got there. He stared at the ceiling as flashes of memory assaulted him._ _

__Luc holding him down as Barbotin wrapped an assortment of scarves and handkerchiefs around his shoulder and leg._ _

__Someone saying Aramis had passed out._ _

__Athos swearing at Marc before apologising._ _

__D’Artagnan admitting he would need help to walk any distance._ _

__The confusion of memories gradually ordered themselves._ _

__‘You’re awake,’ he said to Aramis, looking at the bruises and grazes on his friend’s face._ _

__‘I’ve been awake for a bit, Porthos,’ Aramis replied. ‘I believe I had them worried for a while, but I evidently have a hard head and woke up feeling a lot better than I had been.’_ _

__Porthos blinked a couple of times and shifted slightly. He hissed in pain._ _

__‘You were shot, Porthos,’ Aramis said matter-of-factly. ‘You were shot in the back of the shoulder and the leg. Moving is not a good idea at the moment. Although, I will help you to sit up. If you promise to behave.’_ _

__Porthos nodded. As Aramis eased him into a sitting position and adjusted the pillows behind him he looked around the infirmary. He noted the empty, unmade, bed next to him and realised Aramis was not there acting as a medic. He was still supposed to be recuperating._ _

__‘You do realise, Aramis,’ Athos said from the other side of Porthos, ‘that neither d’Artagnan nor I will be helping you back to your bed. You are on your own.’_ _

__Aramis smirked, ‘I think I can manage a few feet,’ he said as he poured water into a cup and handed it to Porthos. ‘Unlike either or you.’_ _

__As he took a drink Porthos looked his friends over. Athos was lying in the next bed, bandages wrapped around his arm and hand. He was covered in cuts and grazes much the same as Aramis._ _

__D’Artagnan was in the bed next to Athos, his ankle lying on a pillow with a damp cloth draped over it. He had one eye swollen shut and looked quite uncomfortable._ _

__‘We all look worse than we are,’ said Aramis who had noticed Porthos’ frown as he took in his friends' appearances._ _

__‘What were you dreaming about?’ asked d’Artagnan._ _

__Porthos looked away._ _

__‘You need to stop blaming yourself,’ said Aramis with a conciliatory pat of his arm._ _

__‘That’s not what I was dreaming about,’ Porthos said. ‘I was dreaming about them and their eyes and claws.’_ _

__‘Perhaps it would help if we updated you on what’s happened?’ suggested Aramis._ _

__Porthos looked at him with confusion before he realised, he did not know all the details. He could remember what was going on around him to a certain extent, but most of it was clouded by the pain he was in._ _

__‘Whilst you were valiantly risking your life to keep us from crashing into the Seine,’ began Aramis. ‘The Captain managed to shoot Claude and Jacques before impressively impaling Pierre with his dagger.’_ _

__Porthos shook his head with confusion at the names._ _

__‘We got to know the three of them well enough to be on first name terms,’ interjected d’Artagnan who had managed to push himself up to sit. ‘Claude was the tatty one. The one you recognised. Jacques was the leader, the oldest of the three. And Pierre was the lad that had alerted Aramis and me to the attack on the blacksmith.’_ _

__‘Marc, Luc and Barbotin turned up a few seconds later,’ continued Aramis. ‘They managed to get us to safety-’_ _

__‘I remember Luc helping to hold the rope,’ said Porthos. ‘But nothing much after that, just bits and pieces.’_ _

__‘I don’t think you were fully aware,’ agreed Athos. ‘Barbotin and Marc patched us up before we used the old carriage to come back here. By then a few dockworkers had turned up. They helped to deal with the bodies of Pierre and Claude. You’d passed out by the time we got back to the garrison.’_ _

__‘What about the leader, Jacques?’ asked Porthos, trying to hide the concern and hint of fear that crept into him._ _

__Aramis noticed and rested his hand on Porthos’ leg, ‘he wasn’t killed. The Captain hit him in the shoulder, a similar wound to yours. But unlike you, he collapsed and passed out for a while. You, my friend, are made of stronger stuff.’_ _

__‘And we are grateful for that,’ said Athos. ‘Even if you put yourself at too much risk.’_ _

__Porthos shook his head, he was not prepared to accept that he had risked himself. He had done what needed to be done. He realised his friends were all looking at him, their expressions ones of accusation._ _

__‘And,’ Athos continued sternly, ‘you are not to continue blaming yourself for this.’_ _

__He vaguely gestured at the state they were all in._ _

__Porthos knew his friends were right. But he also knew he was not ready to concede that he was not to blame. At least not entirely. He still believed he should have foreseen the issues he would have. If he had not frozen when he and Athos were attacked, the following events would not have happened. Porthos knew it would take him a long time to forgive himself for that incident._ _

__‘Where’s the leader now?’ he asked._ _

__‘The Chatelet,’ replied Aramis. ‘They want us to testify at his trial. They’re prepared to wait a few days for us to recover.’_ _

__Porthos nodded, ‘has he said anything yet?’_ _

__‘No,’ said Athos, ‘Claude said a few words to Treville before he died. And after looking through their belongings, it seems Claude was being used by the other two to perpetuate their illusions. He had been set up as a victim so that he could spread the rumours. Claude had very few belongings and was covered in bruises and scars. We think the other two were beating him to keep him in line.’_ _

__‘He probably didn’t know another life,’ said d’Artagnan._ _

__Porthos thought back to what Flea had said about the man. She had implied he seemed odd and not at ease with his surroundings. But Porthos found he could not be sympathetic to the man. Claude had still been partly responsible for the horrible events that had occurred._ _

__‘If you are alright now,’ said Aramis, ‘I would like to get some more rest. But if you need to talk about this, you know where I am.’_ _

__Porthos nodded, he watched Aramis carefully walk the few feet back to his bed and lie down. His friend did look pale._ _

__‘That goes for us as well,’ said Athos. ‘In fact, we will be annoyed if you do not talk.’_ _

__Porthos looked down for a few seconds before nodding._ _

__MMMM_ _


	11. Chapter 11

_A few days later… ___

__Aramis looked at the people in the courtroom. A cross-section of society had gathered to watch the Devilman being tried. There were some of the poorest people, perhaps come to assure themselves that the fearsome beast was nothing of the sort. Then there were the wealthy people, mainly men but a few women dotted about. All of them were craning their necks to get a view of Jacques as he stood, arms manacled, at the centre of the courtroom._ _

__The man did not look intimidating now. Aramis only had vague recollections of the men that had tried to kill him and his brothers. The blow to the head he had suffered made it difficult for him to properly remember what happened. He did remember Jacques being intimidating towards Claude and Pierre. He dominated his pair of followers. He was also a strong, capable man. But not now. A few days languishing in the Chatelet had left him looking weakened and no longer a threat to anyone._ _

__The judge was asking d’Artagnan and Athos a few questions about their brief time as captives. As Aramis did not have clear memories of the event, he was not required to give evidence._ _

__‘The man believed he would be able to convince the people that he and his two men had saved them from the creature that they had created,’ said Athos. ‘He was then planning to extort money from the locals in return for keeping them safe.’_ _

__A ripple of muttered angry words spread through the watching crowd. The poorer people and the lower classes could not hide their annoyance at being preyed upon by the man standing accused._ _

__The judge, an old man with wispy grey hair, scowled at Jacques for a few seconds before looking towards the Musketeers again._ _

__‘Captain Treville,’ he said. ‘Do you have anything to add? I believe you were forced to shoot this man to prevent him from killing another of your Musketeer’s.’_ _

__Porthos shifted awkwardly next to Aramis. He was using a walking stick and despite trying to stand tall was leaning on it heavily. If Aramis did not think the help would be unwelcome, he would have put his arm around his friend to help steady him._ _

__‘Musketeer Porthos was assisting the men that had been trapped. He had his back to Jacques. I was forced to shoot Jacques when he aimed his gun at Porthos. Had he fired Porthos would have been killed. Jacques' intent was for all four soldiers to die.’_ _

__More murmurs from the crowd. Aramis wondered if some of the people watching would not have minded four Musketeers being killed._ _

__The Captain continued, ‘we believe this man and his two accomplices' to have been responsible for dozens of attacks in the city. They prayed on the weak and planned to make further money by pretending to protect them.’_ _

__‘Thank you, Captain,’ said the judge before turning his attention to Jacques. ‘Do you have anything to say?’_ _

__Jacques was looking at the ground, he shook his head. Aramis guessed he had accepted his fate._ _

__‘I see only one course of action. You instilled fear and you perpetrated many attacks. You attempted to kill many people, not least these four Musketeers. An attack on them is akin to an attack on the King. I sentence you to be hanged. Take him away.’_ _

__Most of the people in the crowd began to shout at Jacques as he was roughly dragged from the courtroom. Some jostled to get a better look at the condemned man, whilst others moved back, away from any potential trouble. Porthos did not move. Aramis remained by his side as the courtroom cleared. Athos and d’Artagnan walked across to join them. Athos had his right arm in a sling and d’Artagnan was also using a stick to walk, his ankle still weak after his treatment by their captors._ _

__‘He’ll be hanged in the morning,’ said Treville who had been talking to the judge. ‘I expect it will draw quite a crowd.’_ _

__MMMM_ _

__Aramis allowed Porthos to get a few paces ahead of him as they walked along the dank, depressing corridor of the Chatelet. Porthos had wanted to visit Jacques alone but Aramis insisted on going with him. His friend might have considered himself fit, but he was not. The fact that he was reliant on the walking stick to move any distance made him vulnerable._ _

__Aramis was prepared to let Porthos talk to Jacques alone. He waited several yards away. Jacques would not be able to see him._ _

__'I wondered if I might get a visit,' said the condemned man from the confines of his cell._ _

__Porthos spent a few seconds regarding the man before he responded._ _

__'I just want to know why?'_ _

__There was no response from within the cell._ _

__Porthos asked again, 'why do you think it's acceptable to terrify people? To leave then in fear.'_ _

__'I saw an opportunity and I took it,' came the eventual reply._ _

__Porthos shook his head._ _

__'Claude said he thought you'd seen the Hell beast,' said Jacques. 'But I find it hard to believe you would have been affected or even believed in my beast.'_ _

__Porthos took a step closer to the bars of the cell._ _

__'I remembered you from the first time around. From years ago.'_ _

__'That wasn't me.'_ _

__Aramis could tell his friend was taken aback by the statement. He could hear Jacques chuckling._ _

__'You must have been young when those attacks happened.'_ _

__'I was five,' Porthos replied._ _

__A shadow moved in the cell. Jacques approached the bars. Porthos did not move._ _

__'I was old enough and sensible enough to know it wasn't some Demon,' Jacques said. 'The attacks lasted a few months then stopped. But the tales and memories lived on... I found the claw.'_ _

__Jacques smirked as Porthos visibly reacted to his statement._ _

__'I found it discarded near one of the attacks. I bided my time, I waited decades. I knew if I was going to profit from the attacks, I had to get help.'_ _

__Porthos looked angry, 'you are responsible for Pierre and Claude’s deaths as well.'_ _

__Jacques shook his head, 'they knew what they were getting themselves into.'_ _

__Porthos leaned closer to the bars, 'well, I hope you are satisfied.'_ _

__Jacques laughed, 'I'm to hang. Not the best outcome… although I suppose you're happy.'_ _

__'Few deaths make me happy,' Porthos replied. 'But for you… I'll make an exception.'_ _

__He pushed himself away from the bars and turned away. He walked past Aramis and away from Jacques without looking back._ _

__MMMM_ _

__They walked side by side along the road. Aramis glanced at Porthos, trying to gauge his mood. He was not sure if talking to Jacques had helped him or not. The revelation that Jacques was not the original Devilman had shocked Porthos. Aramis hoped that piece of information would not affect him too much._ _

__'I'm alright.'_ _

__Porthos had spoken without looking at Aramis. The rhythmic tapping of his stick on the cobbles the only sound for a few seconds._ _

__'I know it was his fault. I know I didn’t cause you all to be hurt. But I will always regret not stopping the attack on Athos. It was wrong of me to assume I'd be fine.'_ _

__'Athos doesn’t blame you.'_ _

__'I know.'_ _

__They continued in silence for a few minutes._ _

__'I suppose we'll never find the original attacker, the one that was around when you were a child,' mused Aramis when he could no longer endure the silence._ _

__Porthos shook his head, 'but we shouldn't see this happening again. People have seen that it wasn't the Devil or a Demon. Jacques failed. He gambled on the naivety of the lower classes and the scaremongering of the nobles. And he failed. He lost and tomorrow he will pay the price.'_ _

__Aramis was pleased his friend was finally accepting that he was not the cause of all the issues from the previous few days. He knew Porthos would still be bothered by the events, but not to the same extent._ _

__They turned into the garrison. The usual activities were going on, cadets sparring and being given training. The sound of gunfire on the range echoed through the yard intermittently. Serge was dishing out orders to a few of the men as they unloaded a cartload of supplies. Normality reined._ _

__A builder was busy refitting a door, his tools spread across a table that had been moved across the yard for him._ _

__Nearby two of the stable boys and Simon, one of the cadets, were standing by a large brazier watching the flames. On the ground next to them was a pile of clothing. As they got closer Aramis realised it was the cloaks Jacques, Pierre, and Claude had worn when they carried out their attacks. The flames from the fire were being reflected in the pieces of glass. The cadet picked up one of the cloaks and started to rip it up and throw it on the fire._ _

__‘Simon, who told you to do that?’ asked Porthos as they reached the fire._ _

__‘The Captain asked us to,’ said the cadet._ _

__Simon threw another piece of the first cloak on the fire. Porthos stared at the flames for a while as they consumed the fabric. The broken bits of glass were coming loose and tumbling through the fire. A few had fallen out of the brazier to land on the ground._ _

__Aramis could see Porthos losing himself in the recriminations again, he wanted to persuade him to walk away. After a few seconds, Simon pointed towards the nearby table._ _

__‘The Captain asked us to get rid of that as well, although I’m not sure what to do with it.’_ _

__Laying on the table next to the builder's collection of tools was the claw weapon. Aramis had not seen it close up. He had only caught glimpses of it up to that point. It was shown to the judge in the courtroom but then taken away by Treville._ _

__Porthos walked up to the table and stared down at the weapon. Aramis stayed by his friend’s side, unsure what he could do or say to snap his friend out of his melancholy mood. Porthos reached forward, resting his finger on one of the blades of the weapon._ _

__The blades, and the metal-plated glove they were attached to, had been polished to a high shine. The flames from the brazier danced in the reflection. Aramis could well imagine the five-year-old Porthos being terrified of the formidable weapon._ _

__‘We could disassemble it,’ suggested Aramis. ‘Take it apart. Destroy it.’_ _

__Porthos shook his head, ‘it needs destroying… but not carefully.’_ _

__He reached across the table and picked up the builder's hammer. He grasped the hammer firmly and brought it down hard on the weapon. The hammer smashed into the metal plating of the glove, causing the blades to bend upwards. Porthos pushed his walking stick towards Aramis’ before using his free hand to move the glove onto its side and bring the hammer down a second time. The impact bent each of the four blades downwards, crushing them into each other._ _

__Aramis took a step back as Porthos continued to pound the hammer into the weapon for a few seconds. He stopped as suddenly as he had started and carefully placed the hammer back from where he had taken it. The builder, Simon, and the stable boys were watching Porthos. The stable boys looked a little fearful. Aramis indicated that they were alright as he stepped back up to his friend._ _

__‘Do you feel better now?’ he asked._ _

__Porthos stared at the remains of the claw weapon again for a few seconds before nodding._ _

__‘I am now,' he said. 'Whoever made that… that thing… I hope they got what they deserved back then. I hope something horrible happened to them and that’s why the attacks stopped.'_ _

__Porthos reached out for his walking stick. He glanced apologetically at the watching men before turning away. Aramis followed him; he knew Porthos would not be able to put all that had happened behind him straight away. But in time his friend would come to accept that he had been a victim rather than the one at fault._ _

__The End._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and favourites. I hope you enjoyed it.


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